


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by uisceB



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Television Shows, Dreams, F/F, GDW, General Danvers Week, Humor, Mutual Pining, Romance, Some light smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uisceB/pseuds/uisceB
Summary: General Danvers Week!In which Astra watches TV for the first time, falls asleep, and has a series of seven very bizarre dreams, each of which ends with her falling in love with one Alexandra Danvers. Which is just silly. Humans are ridiculous. Why would General Astra In-Ze ever fall for a human, even a human as brave, and clever, and kind, and strong, and impassioned, and protective, and brilliant, and beautiful and…damn it.





	1. Day 1: Introduction, and Krypton AU

 

The television.

Sitting there.

Looking imperious on its little wooden throne.

One glowing red eye blinking in steady rhythm at Astra.

Taunting her.

“Astra, the remote’s behind the cushion there, just hit the green button, the TV’ll turn on.”

Astra scowled, refusing to look down at the cushion Alex had just indicated from across the room. 

“Did you hear me?”

 _“Yes,_ Alexandra, I heard you,” she replied stiffly. “And I _know_ how to work the remote, Kara showed me yesterday. It’s not like it’s _complicated.”_

There was an expectant silence, and Astra heard Alex tying her boots behind her. “So…are you gonna grab it, or are you gonna just stare at a blank screen all day while I’m gone?” Alex finally prompted when she must have felt the silence went on too long.

Astra threw her a look over her shoulder and pointed accusingly at the TV.

“It gives me the strangest dreams,” she said.

“Well, that’ll happen when you sit there vegging out for over eight hours straight,” Alex said. “I know J’onn said you needed to lay low and stay inside while he negotiates with the President to exonerate you, but maybe spending _all day_ in front of the TV isn’t the best idea. It’ll rot your brain.”

Astra twisted around fully from her place on the couch, eyes snapping to Alex’s in horror. “Will it actually?” she asked in alarm.

“Probably not,” Alex said with a shrug and a grin at Astra’s reaction—a grin which Astra did not appreciate at all. “It’s just something my mom used to tell me when I was little.”

Astra scowled again. She really detested human hyperbole.

“Well what exactly would you recommend I do for the next eight hours until your return then?” she demanded shortly. 

“I mean, I don’t know. You don’t have anything you like to do?”

“Anything I like to do requires at least some small breath of fresh air, Alexandra,” Astra informed her huffily. “At least your television allows me to _pretend_ I’m elsewhere—though now you bring it up, I’m worried _pretending_ might be the beginnings of your mother’s portended brain rot.”

“I think it’s just too much visual stimulation and no physical outlet,” Alex told her, motioning with a circular motion at her own head. “Your brain gets all wound up, and since you haven’t done anything all day, all that visual stimulation gets you all wired. It’ll _definitely_ give you weirder dreams than normal. Was there anything particular from yesterday that you watched that gave you all these dreams?”

Astra did not want to answer that question. She did not want to answer that every single one of these dreams had ended or consisted of herself and Alex…being in physical contact in a not-exactly platonic way. She did not want to answer that Alex was the force that got her through every dream, no matter how bizarre, or sometimes terrifying they were. She did not want to answer that, even though they were only dreams, Astra had woken each time… _missing_ Alex, wishing she’d been there to wake up _to,_ as opposed to the opposite of waking up only to leave Alex behind.

But she had to answer something. Alex had turned bright, inquisitive eyes on her, wanting to know her…how could Astra _not_ answer—but only the basics. Nothing more.

She held up her hands. “Seven things,” she answered, ticking them off on each finger. “One was a science fiction film. It was ludicrous, but all the space travel…it made me think of Krypton. The second thing was this bizarre cartoon show about superheroes that also reminded me somewhat of home, assuming I’d consumed a heavy dose of drugs beforehand.”

Alex laughed. “What show was that?” she asked.

 _“Winn_ recommended it to me,” Astra told her. “From what I could tell, it was about obscenely muscled men screaming to make their hair turn yellow. I liked it though, I think. One of them had purple hair, and a sword. He reminded me of you.”

“…Thanks?” Alex hazarded.

“He was a courageous superhero with godlike powers and a sword, Alexandra, I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“Okay,” Alex snorted. “What were the other things you watched?”

“I watched one of those movies based on your country’s history, the ones with the cowboys, what are they…Linguini Westerns.”

“You mean Spaghetti Westerns?”

“Oh, right. Spaghetti Westerns.”

Alex raised her eyebrows, smothering a smirk. “You dreamed you were a cowboy?” she asked.

“It’s not my fault, it’s your television’s,” Astra grumbled defensively.

Alex’s smile remained, brighter if anything. “What else did the TV make you dream?” she asked.

Astra waved her hand in annoyance. “This completely ridiculous romance about an arranged marriage turned love affair.”

“Gross. I can never get into romances.”

“No, of course, me neither, romances are…I was only watching it because nothing else was on, it’s not as if I actually…”

Alex cocked her head curiously. Astra cleared her throat loudly, making her esophagus feel like she’d just rubbed it with sandpaper. “Anyway, the one…the one about the arranged marriage, the romance, it shifted over to…something about you, a little bit.” 

As if the others hadn’t.

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Something more true to life, I mean,” Astra said quickly, “though, with some differences, as if it were really life here, but.…divergent, I suppose.”

“Divergent,” Alex echoed with another tilt of her head.

“Yes—but then my mind got caught back up in something else I’d watched—it was a crime drama, secret agent spies and whatnot.”

“Now _that_ I could get into. And the seventh one?”

“The seventh was a documentary on your people’s different mythologies and legends throughout the world. Fascinating. Very bizarre. I think it gave me the strangest dreams yet.”

“Well now I’m all curious.” Alex glanced at the clock. “You wanna tell me them when I get home?”

“Not really. The subject matter wouldn’t be…suitable for you.”

“Oh? In what regard?”

“Subject matter from dreams isn’t suitable for _anyone,”_ Astra said hastily. “It’s all nonsense.”

“That’s what I keep telling Kara,” Alex sighed, somewhat to Astra’s relief, “but she’s been on this kick lately of examining dreams…I think it has something to do with that new friend of hers, Lena Luthor. She’s always having her eat weird things, and talk about flower meanings, and analyze…auras, or something. For a scientist, she’s a little…” Alex made that circular motion at her temple again. “Woo-woo.”

Astra frowned. “But she’s still a scientist,” she said carefully, “so there could possibly be some truth to what she says?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s about as likely as my mom’s warning about brains rotting in front of TVs, but I guess you never know for sure. J’onn always says that dreams are a way for your deepest thoughts and feelings to reveal themselves to the conscious mind.”

Astra swallowed nervously.

“But I think that’s just a Martian thing,” Alex said with another shrug, “probably not the same for humans or Kryptonians.”

Astra tried to find that comforting, but couldn’t. She shifted restlessly, and Alex cocked her head at her. “Wow, those must’ve been some pretty intense dreams if you’re still this shaken up about them,” she said.

“I’m not _shaken up,”_ Astra growled. “I…”

She broke off. Alex was looking at her very carefully, eyes…soft. Their softness made Astra flinch, surprised.

“Why don’t you try staying away from the TV today,” Alex suggested gently. “I’ll bring something home for you later to occupy you.”

“And in the meantime?” Astra asked, still struck by that softness. Alex’s eyes were always so bright and clever, always beautiful, but this? This was something else.

“Uhm…” Alex looked around herself, then held up a finger. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared, then reappeared almost as quickly, with a deck of cards and a…cube. Of some sort.

“Try solitaire,” Alex suggested, tossing the deck of cards to her. “There should be some instructions on the back there.”

“‘Solitaire?’” Astra echoed bitterly, catching the deck in midair, and holding it up to examine. “Fitting name for my current predicament. Likely just as mind-numbing as well.”

Alex sighed patiently. “It’s not _mind-numbing,_ it’s all about trying to outsmart yourself,” she explained.

Astra perked up a little at that. “Well I can’t think of a more challenging opponent,” she mused.

“Exactly,” Alex answered her with a smile. “Should keep you occupied for a little while at least.” Then she tossed over the colorful cube.

“And what is this one?” Astra asked, peering at it curiously as she caught it.

“Rubik’s cube,” Alex told her. “You twist the pieces and try to make each side one solid color. Also kind of trying to outsmart yourself.”

“Hm,” Astra said thoughtfully, trying it out. “We had a similar game on Krypton. Kara used to love them.”

Alex smiled. “Yeah, she loves them here, too.”

Astra met her eyes, feeling between them a shared moment of both sadness and happiness at the thought of the separate splits of Kara’s life they were each part of.

Alex cleared her throat, and Astra quickly pushed that sweet melancholy away. “Anyway. Puzzles will be a good change of pace for you I think, get your brain working again until I get back.”

“And when you get back, you said you’re bringing me something else to occupy my time?” Astra asked.

“Definitely. I don’t want a stir-crazy Kryptonian in my apartment all week—I know how Kara gets on rainy days, I’d hate to think what _you_ might get up to.”

Astra felt a hot wave of bitterness curl in her stomach. “That’s probably wise,” she murmured darkly. “Who knows if I might be trying to recreate Myriad again in your absence.”

Alex looked at her, a surprisingly deep frown crossing her face. “I never said that. And I’d never think it, either. I wouldn’t be going to all this trouble housing you during J’onn’s negotiations if I didn’t trust you, Astra.”

Astra met her eyes again, searching them. They weren’t soft this time, they were harder, fiercer, but not angry. Protective, maybe, if Astra could dare to hope for that. 

“I trust you too, Agent Danvers,” she said softly.

Some muscle twitched in Alex’s jaw, and she held her gaze for longer than felt acceptable. The heat creeping up the back of her neck at the length of time passing between them was a foreign one, uncomfortable, strangely humiliating, and Astra wondered, becoming more panicked, if Alex could see it.

As a highly decorated and deeply respected military officer, both recognized and feared throughout countless worlds, Astra had stared down the cruelest of the cruel, the most frightening of the frightening, without so much as blinking.

So when her gaze dipped almost submissively before Alex after the moment between them lasted too long, she felt as if she’d gone into complete shock.

When she forced herself to look up again, it seemed Alex must have looked away only a beat after her gaze had dropped, because she was also glancing shiftily, awkwardly, around the room. When her eyes finally landed on the clock, she seemed to find an excuse to backflip out of this rather tense moment, mumbling, “So I should probably go…Lucy Lane and I have been working on this one refugee case…this guy from Nexxor…”

“Yes, of course,” Astra said hastily. “I didn’t mean to delay you.”

“No, you didn’t, it’s fine, don’t…” Alex waved her hand, as if swatting away her apology. “You don’t need to be sorry.” She zipped up her jacket with what seemed like unnecessary force, and made for the door, turning her head to look at Astra over her shoulder. “Stay away from the TV though,” she said with what would have been mock sternness if she hadn’t tripped over the words somewhat. “You’ve got puzzling to do.”

Astra hunched her shoulders up in the most awkward show of emotional discomfort she had displayed since childhood, and thanked every god, every star, every everything, that Alex had closed the door behind her before she could see that self-conscious hunch.

She picked up the Rubik’s cube and started twisting it more absently and frustratedly than anything else. 

Yes she did have a lot of puzzling to do.

The first dream wasn’t all bad, she thought. In fact, of the seven of them, this one felt oddly nearest to truth.

Maybe it was because somewhere deep in Astra’s mind, deeper than she felt brave enough to face, she was still on Krypton. Or, if not on Krypton, at least living the life she should have been. A life without Myriad. Without Non. Very much without Fort Rozz. Without anything that could possibly have taken her away from her sister, or her niece.

Except, in this dream, there was one who took her away, or her attention away at least. Who was, annoyingly enough, called Alexandra Danvers, and bore a striking resemblance to _this_ Alexandra Danvers, this human who was housing her, feeding her, entertaining her with Television Shows, cheesy jokes, a couch far more comfortable than she deserved, a trust she wanted deeply but wasn’t sure was deserved…

She twisted the Rubik’s cube.

Annoying that of all things, _this_ was the one Alex had brought to her to soothe her mind.

This was the opposite of soothing.

This was the beginning of the damn thing.

*

General Astra In-Ze stood facing out the port side of the starship Pryligu and twisted the toy her infant niece had given her before embarking on this latest mission.

Not an infant. Kara was getting close to five years old now. Speaking in nearly perfect sentences, if missing a few key nouns here and there—or, more accurately, _adding_ a few _unnecessary_ nouns here and there.

Astra twisted the toy again. Six months since she’d been back on Krypton. Practically years to a child. 

Years to Astra.

This particular military tour of their star system had been exhausting. Three planets attempting to place unconscionable refugee bans, dramatic political changeovers in five others that threatened numerous civil wars…fortunately, the past several weeks had been devoted solely to helping rebuild a sprawl of villages that had fallen under attack a month or so previous, rather than engaging in outright warfare. It was a tenuous peace, but it seemed to be holding for now, and with Krypton’s ambassador paying a visit to this particular planet’s governing council…well, honestly, Astra wasn’t sure if that would pan out. She would be the first to admit she had very little interest in politics. She kept herself as informed as she could, but so much time was spent on policy makers muddling about rather than being even remotely effective, that she only ever found herself becoming frustrated.

Needless to say, it would be a relief to return to Krypton, if only ever so briefly. She lived for these missions in which she got to help people rebuild, but she also longed for just some small respite on her own planet, where there was at least some sense of order, some sense of value placed on finding justice…not to mention being able to see her sister and her little niece. Her hiatus would be little more than a month before she took off again—for a full year, this time—but she intended to spend every second of that time with her family.

Feeling a sense of calm wash over her from just the thought of it, she relaxed her stance for perhaps the first time since the beginning of their tour, and placed the toy on the window sill to just watch the stars go by as the ship neared Krypton’s port. 

Sudden turbulence at the abrupt pull of Krypton’s gravity had her clipping off to help the rest of the crew prepare for landing. It gentled without _too_ much expenditure, and once they were finally secured at the Argo City docking point, Astra went back inside to find the toy. Kara would likely have a new one by now, and had given this one to Astra “for keeps on your adventures” but Astra still liked to hang on to everything Kara gave her. Unlike most children, Kara only gave away things she valued—if there was something she loved, she wanted to share it. That she had given this little toy puzzle to Astra before a military tour…this was now Astra’s most prized possession.

She looked all along the floor for it. The turbulence from their landing would have knocked it off the sill of course, but there were only so many places it could have skittered off to. Her gaze fell to the ducts leading down to the cargo deck and she groaned inwardly at the idea of having to climb all the way down there to retrieve the thing, assuming that was even where it had fallen. She was eager to be home, eager to see her family, and really, they were so much more important than any kind of trinket, but Astra hated the idea of such a cherished thing being lost to her forever.

So she sighed and made for the hatch near the back of the ship that would lead her down there. Her men would be unloading  their personals first, so no one would be down here to see her chasing after a silly child’s toy—reassuring because, while she didn’t think a single one of them would lose respect for her attachment to it, there still might be some judgment about seeing their General wriggling through an air duct for a toy that could be purchased almost anywhere.

So she made her way silently down to the cargo deck, hand finding the panel that would allow a dull, though welcome source of light, flicking her gaze quickly from corner to corner, under canvas bags filled with everything from soap to beta level weaponry. Somewhere amidst all these things, Kara’s puzzle had to be hiding.

And it was. Except that it wasn’t the only thing hiding here.

Astra managed to stop herself from outright leaping backwards at the shadow that moved not more than fifteen paces from her only because of years of rigorous training, and an inherently stoic nature. Having finally located Kara’s toy, she had bent to pick it up, and that was when she’d seen it, the shadow that skittered away into further darkness, confirming its solidity when a succession of clangs and crashes followed it toward the rear exit.

It took Astra only a second to recover from her shock. Not even stopping to drop the toy, she took off after the shadow, streaking after its noisy wake, leaping from carton to carton of rations and weapons. From up here, she was able to see the shadow as it shot ever closer to the exit, and she flung herself down, grappling with it, pinning it to the floor with her forearm pressed into its throat.

She startled when her eyes finally focused enough through the dull light to see the source of the shadow. 

Not a shadow at all. A young woman—younger than her by at least a decade, but with a hardness to her young face that spoke of something older. Angular features that may once have been delicate, but were now sharp and smudged with all manner of dirt and grime, and wide, dark eyes, staring up at her fiercely…it wasn’t what Astra had expected to see.

“Who are you?” she demanded, pressing her forearm harder against the young woman’s throat in warning not to try anything foolish.

The young woman grunted something, expression somewhere between angry and desperate, but Astra couldn’t understand her.

“What language is that?” she demanded, another push against the young woman’s throat. “Where are you from?”

“Earth—“ the young woman gasped out, hands clawing at her arm. “I’m from Earth—“

 _“Earth?”_ Astra echoed, and she angled her head cautiously, considering abating the pressure she had at the young woman’s throat, but then deciding not to. She had heard of Earth, quite a bit more than usual as of late—mandates had recently been passed down that she and her men learn a few of Earth’s primary dialects. This one, she recognized as English.

“And how exactly did an Earthling find her way onto my ship?” Astra snarled warningly in English. “Krypton has never dealt directly with Earth. Are there more of you? Who ordered you here?”

The young woman struggled under her, and it took a moment for Astra to realize she was frantically shaking her head in disagreement. “—No one ordered—Just me—“ she gasped, face red with the effort. “Just me—trying to—get home—“

Astra looked down at her, pulse pounding. There was no guile in those wide eyes, her struggling had no violence to it, only desperation, her tone frightened rather than aggressive.

Astra lessened the pressure on her throat slowly, very slowly, eyes locked with her the entire time as she allowed the young woman to push herself up to sitting. The Earthling stared back at her, rubbing her throat soothingly, but not making to run away or attack. She looked like a caged animal, half-starved, chin-length hair clotted with dirt, sticking to her neck and face. Dark, cumbersome clothes, all looking like she’d worn them through a hurricane, worn, torn, and otherwise filthy.

It was a pitiful sight.

“What’s your name?” Astra asked, with as much compassion as she dared give someone she didn’t know.

The young woman hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to give a real name, or fabricated, as if one might keep her safe, then seemed to give in. “Alex,” she said finally. “Alex Danvers.”

Astra nodded. “Alex. I’m General Astra In-Ze,” she said. She looked at the young woman carefully, the lack of any possessions on her, not even a weapon. “Do you know where you are?” she asked.

Alex hesitated again, then shook her head no. 

“You’re on Krypton,” Astra told her. “Many, _many_ lightyears from Earth.” 

She watched Alex’s face fall, watched hope absolutely _drain_ from her, and realized the poor Earthling must have been fooled by her appearance. Human and Kryptonian physiques were nearly identical, almost impossible to tell the difference by sight alone. Alex must have seen her and assumed she must be human as well, must be on Earth, or at least from it. Astra felt her own mood deflate slowly as well in sympathy with this woman’s despair.

“How did you come to be out here by yourself?” she asked.

Alex grit her teeth, looking to be silently fighting back tears. Astra waited patiently for her to put her emotional mask back in place—it’s what she would have wanted had their situations been reversed. 

“I work for an organization called the DEO,” Alex said finally, a subtle tightness to her voice the only indication of her pain. “Initially its purpose was to monitor extra-normal life on Earth, but that changed the day another race of aliens revealed themselves to us from a star system adjacent to ours, wanting to open up check points for trade routes. Since then, the DEO has been monitoring all alien traffic going through Earth.”

“I take it things did not go as smoothly as you’d have liked,” Astra guessed.

“It was doing fine for the most part,” Alex said. “Past two years have been…good for us. All of us. Human and otherwise. But a few months ago, we became aware of an illegal slave trade—aliens from all over the galaxy being smuggled to and from various stations, using Earth as a primary exchange point. My mission was to find out who was running these rings, and where they were based out of. And I did.”

“A bit too intimately?” Astra inferred gently.

Alex nodded sharply. “My fault,” she said, “I should have stuck to the mission, and nothing else. But I saw this one child—I don’t know where he was from, or who he was, but I saw him being taken. I couldn’t just do _nothing.”_

Astra felt a sudden and fierce wave of affection hit her for this young human, in spite of knowing her for all of five minutes. There was a passion in her eyes, and in the tremble of her voice, that was almost painful. It pulled at her with an unexpected force, like she was seeing a kindred spirit she had found only very rarely over the course of her entire life.

“I tried to free him, but I was caught,” Alex went on. “I was caught, and I was brought along, smuggled to a completely different star system I’d never even _heard_ of before. I wasn’t sold—I don’t think they knew what to do with me. So they just kept me imprisoned, tried to see if I had anything that would make me special, the way other aliens did sometimes. I don’t think I impressed them very much, because they got lazy with me. They didn’t expect a fight, or an escape, but they got both.”

Alex tilted her head high, proud of that if nothing else. “I’ve been stowing away on ship after ship trying to get back to Earth,” she said, voice rough. “And I was getting closer for a while, trying to follow trade routes to the best of my ability. But the smugglers have sent bounty hunters after me—I guess they’re either impressed after all, or just want me silenced before I can get back to the DEO and tell them who’s running these rings. Bounty hunters have gotten closer and closer—the last planet I was on, I had no choice but to run for the first ship I saw, and it was yours. I promise I’m not trying to hurt anyone, I’m just trying to get home.”

It was the word _home._ This six month tour, the thousands of displaced people she’d come to work with, all of whom just wanted to go _home._ And how much Astra herself had wanted to come home _._  

And this, this poor Earthling whose bravery had only hurt her, had only taken her _away_ from home, but for a cause she’d seen as necessary…

“I’d like to help you get home, Alex Danvers,” she said, “but first, I’d like to see my family. I’ve been away from them much too long. If you’ll allow me to stay with them for another week, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get you home.”

Alex’s features drew together critically. “You’re not…going to have me arrested for…stowing away, or…anything…?”

“Most people probably _would_ arrest you,” Astra advised. “But were I in your place, I can’t pretend I would do things any differently if it meant both returning home, and putting a stop to a slave ring.” She rose up to standing. “You may stay here if you like, but eventually, this deck will need to be emptied, and you will be found. If you come with me to my home, if nothing else, we can give you a place to stay while we work out a way for you to get to Earth.”

Alex hesitated, body tight, sharp, shrewd. A strange part of Astra wanted to kneel back down and stroke her cheek, soothe her, show her that she truly meant no harm. Certainly not to someone like her.

Alex set her jaw firmly after a moment, and pushed herself up to standing as well. She was slightly shorter than Astra was, and smaller framed, but her presence was a solid one nonetheless. The hardships she had been through hadn’t left her a waif, nor even beaten down. Battered, certainly, but this was not a broken spirit before her. This was one willing to fight with everything she had in order to get to her home and give her organization the information they needed to take down this slave trade. 

Something in Astra burned.

*

Kara adored Alex on sight. While for the first several minutes of her return the tiny child only had eyes for Astra, she quickly became curious about the unexpected guest behind her. She stalked straight up to her, tugged on the hem of her jacket to get her full attention, and Alex, without hesitation, knelt down to her level and gave her her absolute, undivided attention.

Astra could tell she didn’t speak Kryptonese and so understood almost nothing of Kara’s babbling. Fortunately, Kara was at the age where words were less important than the ability to be drawn into a world of pretend, and quick-flash smiles.

Astra was quick to separate the two of them, knowing it was likely that poor Alex could hardly stand up straight after all she’d been through, and showed her down to the washrooms. 

“You bathe on Earth, I’m assuming,” she said, surprised to find her own tone a teasing one. She gestured at Alex’s state of attire. “This isn’t your typical garb, or…smell?”

Alex seemed taken off guard for only a second before giving a surprised smile which quickly turned a little playful. “Definitely not typical garb,” she said, “but there might not be anything we can do about the smell. You might be stuck with it.”

“I think it’s probably something I could get used to,” Astra said before she realized what she was saying.

Alex’s smile never faltered, though her face did turn a bit more red underneath all the dirt, and Astra’s heart did a strange fluttering motion that was both pleasant, and made her feel somewhat light-headed. She distracted herself from the feeling when Alex began to shed her jacket, wincing when her shoulder pulled back at an odd angle.

“Do you…need help?” Astra offered cautiously.

Alex looked at her sharply, sizing her up again it looked like, but finally dipped her head in a sort of acquiescence. She turned so her back was facing Astra, and Astra helped ease the jacket off her shoulders and down her arms to drop to the floor. Her hands slid up to the hem of Alex’s shirt, tugging upwards gently in question to make sure this was still alright. Alex made no protest, so Astra helped her lift it over her head, grimacing in sympathy at Alex’s wince of pain.

The back of Alex’s bared torso was a story of cuts, bruises, and perhaps a few permanent scars. Astra’s hand drifted thoughtlessly over them, knowing the heat a select few of these types of injuries could give off, the kind of heat that was from rage, or an unfulfilled retribution. Astra felt those kinds of injuries on herself all the time. It was like these particular injuries knew that injustice had been done, that they were here because of that injustice, and their purpose now was not to heal, but to feed that burning need to right the wrong that put them there in the first place.

Astra tore her gaze away from that map of injustice across Alex’s back and stepped away quickly. “I’m assuming you can handle the rest…?” she ventured.

“Yeah, I’m good,” came the quick reply. Then Alex looked back over her shoulder at her. “Thank you, Astra,” she said softly. For a moment, it looked like she was going to say more, but either she was too tired, or she couldn’t figure out which words she wanted to use, so Astra stepped in.

“I’m going to go find my sister and tell her not to be alarmed if she finds a human wandering around,” she said. “Alura upholds Krypton’s laws to a fault, but she is also a champion of justice. She won’t harm you knowing the mission you’re on, nor will she report you, but it would probably be best if she knew why there was a strange woman in my bed.”

“In your bed?” Alex asked abruptly, fumbling.

“Is that alright?” Astra asked, tilting her head curiously at the outburst. “I would offer you a room of your own, but we don’t have any spare beds…”

“No, it’s okay,” Alex said quickly, facing front again. The tips of her ears were pink. “That sounds great.”

She sounded uncomfortable, but not unhappy, and Astra supposed it was the nearness that was making her nervous. Alex didn’t know her, or know if she could trust her, she’d been on the run for months—of course sharing a bed with a stranger was likely to make her a little anxious.

But she didn’t protest, so Astra left her to bathe, wondering if, while they slept, she would still be able to feel the angry heat emanating from those wounds.

*

The first night they shared the bed, there was very little tension—reason being that as they settled beneath the sheets, Kara burst in, scrambled up the mattress, and nestled herself into the small gap right between them. Astra waited for Alex to protest, or to become annoyed, but instead she seemed to be smothering a grin, and allowed herself to be used as Kara’s new pillow. 

It wasn’t until the second night, when Alura insisted Kara sleep in her own bed, that things felt different. 

The grand majority of Astra’s day up until then had been spent solely with Kara, being dragged this way and that, each wanting to hear one another’s stories of how they had fared the past six months. It took almost no time at all, however, for Kara to start asking where Alex was, and why wasn’t Alex here with them, and didn’t Alex have some stories to share too, and where was Alex…

Needless to say, Astra found Alex futzing around with some of the maps in the archive room, and invited her to tag along. The three of them swapped stories, Kara revealing that she had learned quite a bit of English recently as well, and at the end of Alex’s, Kara’s face grew very serious, and she grabbed both their hands, tugging them along after her.

She led them to one of the off-shoot galleries making up the maze of outdoor walkways connecting the housing complexes to each other. There, amongst a pile of other complete trash, was a small, one-man space vessel.

“You could use that to get home,” Kara said, pointing proudly at her discovery.

Astra laughed kindly, leaning down to hug her niece around the shoulders from behind. “Thirty years ago, you’re absolutely right,” she said, “but I don’t think Uncle Jor’s ship has flown since long before you were born, little one.”

Kara pouted. “But if you used it, you could fly it all by yourself, you wouldn’t have to wait for anyone to help you, you could get home quicker,” she protested in a near-whine. “We could fix it!”

“Oh? Are you an engineer now? You really _have_ grown up in the past six months…”

“I could probably fix it,” Alex piped up hesitantly. Astra turned to her, surprised. “I know machines pretty well—well, I started out as a _human_ doctor, but my Director got me working on machine insides in addition to people insides, so… I could give it a shot, at least?”

There was that movement in Astra’s heart again, both a push and a pull this time. A swelling at the determination of this young woman, her resourcefulness…it made Astra proud to know her, and sad to think they should part ways so soon.

“I’ll help you,” she volunteered. Surely she wouldn’t find any reason to miss her if she spent enough time with her, right? Missing someone preemptively was never useful, it was exactly what always made her so sad during her short visits with her family in between missions. So she may as well spend time with Alex now, help her get home, and be done with it. No wishing, no overthinking. 

She still felt some sort of unnamed wish go shooting through her when Alex gave her a grateful smile at her offer. It would be very sad to have a day where Astra didn’t get to see that look again.

But no, she was doing that preemptive _missing_ again. It was far more useful to focus on the task at hand, and not even an hour later, the two of them were situated on either side of the ship, tools in hand, Alex’s directions given softly every so often.

It was deadly, this time spent together. Because once they got into the rhythm of things, and Alex no longer needed to guide her every alteration, they fell into simply…talking. They spoke to each other of different worlds, the way they both had been privy to the the ugliness of the galaxy’s various societies, and the simple beauties as well. Alex’s stories were particularly interesting, given that they came with a sense of urgency, a need to escape. These weren’t ponderous observations, they were the necessities that would keep her alive, and keep her headed in the right direction.

Similarly, Alex seemed fascinated with Astra’s stories, the way she often had to settle for long periods of time in foreign locations, fighting, rebuilding, waiting, rebuilding again when the fighting resumed…Alex hung on her every word as she spoke, and Astra found herself talking more than she _ever_ did in order to keep this energy between them going. 

And Alex’s descriptions of Earth, so different from Krypton in so many ways, but familiar nonetheless…Astra looked over at her when Alex was too busy tightening bolts into place to notice her watching as she spoke…the Earthling was strikingly beautiful. The bath had made a huge improvement, of course, revealing fair skin, and surprising definition to her arms and the gentle twitch of tendons going up her neck every time she strained her body. She had a quiet seriousness to her, but would add in these funny little jabs and snarks here and there, making herself laugh almost before making Astra laugh, and that unfamiliar motion in Astra’s heart just kept happening and happening…

By evening the two of them worked side by side, nudging shoulders and elbows, Alex playfully reaching over to mess up Astra’s work, simply for the purpose of getting a laugh out of her. Odd behavior—it would be so much more efficient if Alex didn’t keep messing around with her, or allowing Astra to return the tease—but Astra loved it, stored it away in her memory as something to look back on, but not to get too attached to right now. It wouldn’t last.

It wouldn’t. But she wanted it to, and that night, as Alex joined her in her bed, this time without the comfortable Kara barrier between them, she felt a tension in herself that threatened to spoil the good feelings she had for Alex. Because as Alex laid down there beside her, Astra thought she might understand the Earthling’s discomfort from the night before when she had suggested they share her bed. Astra had supposed it to be anxiety and distrust, which she was sure had to be a big part of it. But the other part was just…this closeness. This intimacy. Nudging shoulders while they worked outside on the starship was one thing, this was something else altogether. Any touch here would carry a different meaning—perhaps a meaning Astra felt too deeply to be comfortable with.

She ended up going out to the balcony to sleep under the stars. Better out here where she could _pretend_ Alex was there, than to actually have Alex there.

*

Days passed and they got closer. Astra couldn’t help but root for every tiny little failing they had fixing the ship, the way each one extended Alex’s stay. They took breaks when things became either too frustrating or too tiring, and Astra brought her around the city. Alex was distantly impressed by the architecture, but her eyes practically shone with excitement as Astra brought her to look at the science archives. She was a doctor, she had said, and Astra could see that bright mind taking in every projected image she saw, asking Astra eagerly for translations of the Kryptonese text.

But Astra was most excited to take her to see the Argo City greenhouses. They were seemingly endless, a maze of plantlife Astra had only seen on Krypton as a small child. Those were her memories, anyway, she told Alex. 

“Maybe I’ve just confused it with memories from other planets,” she said, shaking her head. “But I could have sworn when I was a child, there used to be forests like this growing naturally here. Maybe it was just that my parents brought me _here_ so often, I just…made it into something else.”

Alex looked at her, face and smile soft. 

“What?” Astra asked self-consciously.

Alex shrugged, grinning. “You just look happy here, that’s all,” she said. “All your talk about war and fighting…this is your happy place. You look all glowy.”

“‘Glowy?’” Astra echoed, confused. She wasn’t altogether sure that that was a proper English word. 

Alex grinned again, and reached for a flower growing on a vine behind Astra’s head. The gesture brought them closer, and Alex twirled the flower a little awkwardly between her fingers before twisting it into the white streak of Astra’s hair, tucking it back behind her ear.

“You just look happy,” she said again, with a smile overshadowed by something more serious, something weighted, and Astra wanted to be closer.

She slept outside on the balcony again that night.

*

The day the bounty hunters finally caught up to Alex, neither of them were prepared. Working outside on the starship—how could they have possibly tracked her down?

But when the first red ray from their guns came slicing through the side of her arm, the possibility made itself very clear. Alex dove toward her, tackling her to the ground as further gunfire erupted around them.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked urgently, pulling them under the safety of some scrap metal. 

“Fine,” Astra answered hurriedly, bringing her fingers to her arm. It hummed hot, then cold, then numb, and Astra recognized the feeling with a start. “They’re not trying to kill you,” she said. “These rays are made for paralysis. You were right, their plan must be to take you back with them, not simply kill you.”

They both jolted as the rays blasted apart their cover, and they scrambled toward the starship, arms entangled as they pulled and pushed each other from one place of cover to the next. Flattening themselves against the wall of the tool shed, they peeked their heads around to see the starship.

“Is it ready?” Astra asked, hushed.

“Ready as it’s ever gonna be, I think,” Alex said with a grim kind of smile. 

They both ducked as a ray shot through the supporting beam above them. Astra took Alex’s arm, turning her to face her. “Then you need to go,” she said. “Expose them to your organization so they can never hurt anyone again.”

Alex’s face was hard, hurting. “You could come with me,” she croaked, but Astra shook her head.

“That ship can handle one person only, the two of us wouldn’t make it,” she said, knowing that Alex already knew this. 

It didn’t stop her Earthling’s brow from creasing, or from a deep sorrow settling into her eyes.

“I’ll come back for you,” she said fiercely. “Or—or you could come to Earth some day—or—“

“We’ll find each other,” Astra assured her as the blasts from the rays got closer. “Somehow, I promise.” They both ducked again as the rays began pouring in like rain. “Go,” she urged, voice strained.

Alex stared at her, eyes wide and hurting, and she cupped the back of Astra’s neck roughly, pulling her in to a kiss. It was gentler than seemed possible—urgent, but lingering ever so slightly, like a promise that they’d be together again sometime, somewhere…

*

Astra frowned and snapped the final colored row of the Rubik’s cube into place. She held the cube up to examine, only mildly proud of herself for completing the puzzle so quickly. 

It hadn’t calmed her thoughts, obviously. She could already tell today was going to be utterly devoted to obsessing over each and every one of those intensely detailed dreams.

And this first one here…so unsatisfying. What happened? Was Alex able to escape? Did the bounty hunters follow her? Did they leave Krypton mostly unharmed? Did Alex ever make it back to Earth? And what ever happened to Kara’s toy? 

She had awoken from this dream last night to a hazy cocktail of all these fears. And in the middle of it, the saddest and sweetest part of that haze had her thinking she might just reach back into that dream, move it over a little so it could join her in her haze. She could reach for Alex’s hand and pull her up, pull her into the real world, pull her into her mouth again, reclaim that kiss. For just that hazy moment, her fears and anxieties vanished, and the fantasy of pulling her dream Alex to safety took over. She imagined them both in her mind, bathed in a soft glow—whether from a yellow or red sun, it didn’t matter. Some combination of both, perhaps. Skin on skin, her fingers raking up into Alex’s hair, Alex’s body pressing down on top of her, just kissing, slow, a low smolder building achingly between them.

Astra tossed the Rubik’s cube frustratedly at the coffee table between her and that wretched television. Obviously that hadn’t helped one bit. 

Perhaps solitaire would quiet her mind more effectively.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One of GDW…So, do dreams count as an AU? Probably not. But the premise is an AU, with dreams happening in it, so dreams of an AU within an AU…that counts, right? AU in an AU? That’s like AU squared. Or cubed. Or something. Maybe.
> 
> Anyway, seven days of Astra mulling over dreams and trying to figure out what it could possibly mean if she keeps falling in love with Alex in each one? WHAT COULD THAT POSSIBLY MEAN, ASTRA?
> 
> Also, Just so y’all know, these aren’t all going to be this long, this one just needed the long introduction part on top of everything else, but the rest of these prompts should be much shorter. Should be. Not sure yet. Haven’t actually written them yet. Ha. Haaaa. These could end up being horrible, and I might actually die trying to get them out on time. You’ve been forewarned.
> 
> Thanks for reading though, hope you enjoy, and happy General Danvers Week!!


	2. Day 2: Superhero AU

Annoyingly enough, the first card Astra pulled out of the deck as she was trying to set herself up for this “solitaire” game, was the useless Joker.

Which perhaps was fitting, given the memory of the dream it evoked.

The Joker.

Winn.

She scowled.

_Winn._

This was all _his_ fault.

She liked him well enough in small doses. She wasn’t sure she had ever laughed outright at anything he had ever said, but she did find him amusing, and very _very_ occasionally, somewhat endearing. 

But only sometimes.

Enough times, she supposed, that on a lazy afternoon when there was nothing else to do at the DEO, she had allowed him to blather on about Things That Had Formed Him Into The Man He Was Today.

Honestly, it made Astra’s heart twinge a little sadly, because throughout the blather, he had never once mentioned his father, and Astra knew from having talked with both Kara and Alex, that there was _a lot_ of tragedy behind their relationship. Of the things that had probably Made Him Into The Man He Was Today, that was probably one of the greater influences, but he had chosen to share with her the sillier things, the ones that made him grin like an idiot.

It was peculiar behavior, but Astra respected his desire for privacy, related to it on a surprising level, and she felt a little warmer toward him.

Warm enough to put up with the blather that had set her up with this next dream, anyway.

“It’s called Dragon Ball Z,” Winn had told her nearly a week before yesterday. He had been pointing at a collection of what _he_ called collectible figurines, and Kara and Alex referred to as action figures. 

“Kids’ toys,” Alex had extrapolated.

There were four in all.

“That one’s Goku,” Winn had explained, pointing to the collectible figurine with a bad case of bed hair. “He’s the main character. He’s basically like Kara.”

Astra gave him a critical look, utterly failing to see the resemblance.

Winn waved his hands frustratedly. “Goku’s from this far away planet. The planet’s destroyed, but he’s sent to Earth as a baby before it does. He grows up here, has enough power to blow up entire worlds, but chooses to devote his life to protecting it instead. He’s basically the deadliest fighter in the Universe, only he has the soul and appetite of a golden retriever puppy.”

Astra had considered that. She had encountered a few golden retriever puppies in her time here, and had to admit that truly, if ever her niece were to take on the form of some other creature, a golden retriever puppy would be it.

A golden retriever puppy with the strength to destroy galaxies, but had devoted herself to protecting the Earth.

“Alright,” Astra had allowed. “So Goku and Kara are one in the same, I understand.”

“I mean, it’s just a TV show, they aren’t _actually_ the same.”

Astra had pointed to the next one with the black hair in the shape of an artichoke. “Who is this?”

“That’s Vegeta,” Winn had told her. “He’s kinda like you—er—not like _you_ , that is—“

“Winn,” Astra had interrupted him with a warning lift of one eyebrow.

“So,” Winn had said awkwardly, fiddling absently with this Vegeta’s pointy head and refusing to look her in the eye, “Vegeta’s from the same planet as Goku, and he survived its demise too. But he’s really proud of his race, and when he shows up on Earth one day, he thinks Goku should be that way too.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Right, except pride for a Saiyan—“

“—a ‘Saiyan—‘“

“—Their alien race…they’re meant to be fighters. Kinda violent.” Winn had swallowed. “Really violent. Vegeta kills a bunch of people and tries to explode the planet a little.”

Astra had tried very hard not to murder him. “Which reminds you of me,” she prompted icily.

“Well not _now—_ and not ever, really, just when we thought…”

Astra stared him down, forcing him to talk.

“When I first heard about you, I jumped to some conclusions,” he had said quickly. Then he grinned shakily through his terror and offered, “He had some of the best one-liners though.”

Astra still wasn’t pleased with him, but she had pointed at the next collectible figurine. “This one is J’onn,” she stated.

Winn had looked surprised. “I—yeah, kinda,” he had said. “Tall green guy part of an alien race that was once wiped out by a pasty pink and white alien—kinda gruff, but lovable once you get to know him…yeah, Director Henshaw could definitely be Piccolo.”

Astra had felt satisfied with herself, how quickly she was catching on to this game of associating real people with Collectible Figurines. She had pointed to the next one she saw, excited by the roll she was on. “That one is Alexandra,” she had stated confidently.

Winn had hesitated, looking down at it, and scratched his head. “They’ve definitely got a similar hair vibe going,” he had mused. “Plus the sword—“ He had looked up at her quickly, face going white. “I mean, the sword, not that—cuz with Alex and the sword—with the Kryptonite sword— and then you and the whole—“ he gave a sharp whistle and mimed stabbing the air. 

“The time Alexandra stabbed me with her Kryptonite sword, yes Winn, I remember,” Astra had said patiently.

Winn’s face had gone from white to red. “Glad you survived that, by the way,” he’d said.

“Not as glad as I am, trust me.”

Winn had cleared his throat. “Right, so…so yeah, I guess that kinda looks like Alex. Sorta grumpy in a badass way.”

“And the character’s name?” Astra had inquired, holding the Collectible Figurine up to examine more closely. It certainly had that determined seriousness Alex bore—perhaps too serious, though that was what Astra had thought when they’d first met. There looked to be perhaps a cautious potential for humor hidden away in this sharp, plastic, pretend face though.

The sword was a nice touch. Slung over the shoulder like that. It wasn’t that Astra had ever been _okay_ with having nearly been killed with said sword, but even upon first seeing Alex armed with it…it was an impressive look. She looked every bit the warrior she was on the inside.

Astra was glad Alex’s hair wasn’t purple though. That might be a bit too much for her.

“His name’s Trunks,” Winn had answered her. “He’s from the future.”

Astra had raised another critical eyebrow.

“Yeah, so Earth gets destroyed by these androids in the future, so he goes back in time to get Goku—“ he held up the plastic likeness, “—or, Kara if you prefer—to get Goku to prepare to fight the androids so the end of the world won’t even happen in the first place.”

Astra had frowned. “We had scientists on Krypton who were trying to manipulate time,” she had said guardedly. “It was unsuccessful, but had been preemptively ruled unconscionable by the High Council. Time is too delicate a thing—“

“Astra, it’s a TV show,” Winn had interrupted her. “Seriously, don’t overthink it.” He had plucked Alex—Trunks—from her fingers and held her—it—him—up to look at. “Trunks comes back in time to save the world, and he cuts all these guys in half with his sword, goes through this whole emotional journey with his father…it’s a whole thing.”

Astra had looked down and noticed another three figures with likenesses to the Goku, the Vegeta, and the Trunks, only each sported different hair. 

“Why is their hair yellow here?” she had asked, perhaps disproportionately annoyed by it. 

“They get that way when they go Super Saiyan.”

“Super Saiyan,” Astra had echoed, eyes narrowing at the figures. “The word ‘Super’ is important to humans, isn’t it. Superhero. Supergirl. Super Saiyan.”

“Just means they’ve risen above what they started out as,” Winn had told her, shrugging a little self-consciously, and Astra had tilted her head at the strange innocence of it. “The whole ‘Super’ thing, I think it’s just the way humans try to articulate pushing themselves beyond what seems possible.”

“Kara already has yellow hair,” Astra had commented. “She started out as a Super Saiyan.”

“I mean, that’s not how that…” Winn had trailed off, waving his hands in irritation again. “Sure. Kara’s a Super Saiyan. The Superest of the Supers.” He had poked a finger at her white streak, making her flinch, which caused him to flinch as well. He offered a nervous smile. “You’re part way there, kinda.”

Ridiculous. 

Winn and his silly projections, his scrambles to find meaning in things that weren’t real.

Astra huffed, finishing the final layout of her solitaire game. Perhaps if she hadn’t given into his blather about this inane show, she would have skipped over it yesterday as she flipped through the channels. But of course she had recognized the characters, their accompanying traits, the way Winn had aligned those traits with those of the people he knew in real life. 

Had that conversation never happened, Astra would have flipped right past the channel airing that show, rather than settling in and watching six straight episodes that truly did consist almost entirely of outrageously muscled men screaming at the top of their lungs in order to make their hair turn yellow and even spikier than before. 

Six episodes of that, and Astra’s brain was well inhabited by it. No wonder her dreams had been so fraught with elements of that asinine story, its visuals, its sounds. Its stupid passion.

She frowned down at the Joker card and tossed it irritatedly to the side. Then she looked down at the streak of silver in her hair. _Part way there,_ he’d said, and that must have registered in her dreams too. Trying foolishly to become something ‘Super.’ Astra knew better than to imagine such a thing in waking hours. 

For better or for worse, her dreams last night had dared to differ.

*

The entire Saiyan population had not been wiped out in the planet’s destruction. There was Kara, of course—Goku, as she was occasionally referred to—who had been sent to be raised on Earth from a young age. But there were a handful of others who had sought refuge on Earth as well. 

Astra was one of that handful. 

It wasn’t so much that she hated Earth, it was more that she was unimpressed by it. She and her fellow Saiyans were more powerful by far than even the strongest human, and humans were supposedly the dominant species here. 

Laughable.

Upon her arrival to Earth, the Saiyan child now known on Earth as Kara had tried to extend a hand in friendship. They weren’t blood in the familial way, but they were a kindred race, one that was near extinct, and Astra tentatively accepted that hand. 

It proved itself pointless when there was a shift in the Earth’s atmosphere, and Astra and several of her men became convinced the human population would be at its best if it could be controlled by them. And those who got in the way, well. The world would hardly miss them.

Kara wouldn’t stand for that treatment—almost as if she saw the humans as equal to her. Filled with protective rage, she had come after Astra. They clashed over and over, bodies bolts of lightning in the sky. Their battle tore up barren Earth, their shouts whipped up wind from across the ocean.

Astra summoned power to her that went beyond the physical—it could be gathered from within her to manifest as a weapon, discs and beams of light and energy she could shoot forward from her hands. Kara matched her move for move, their powers spinning off each other, and it was an accident—it truly was an accident, when a disc of Astra’s power flung forward and killed an innocent human. Truly innocent, not one of those Astra had regarded as a potential threat to this world.

The human wasn’t even a friend of Kara’s. It could have been anyone. But maybe that was the point, maybe that was the tipping point, because something in Kara seemed to snap. The Saiyan woman who had offered her hand in friendship was gone, replaced with an embodiment of the purest rage Astra had ever encountered in a lifetime of endless battles.

The Earth around her trembled as Kara’s rage seemed to consume her. Astra could hardly do anything but stare in awe, and horror, as that rage built. It started inside, gathering, gathering to the point that the planet itself seemed to feel it, seemed to rise in synch with her, and finally that power seeped out of her, casting her in a startling glow.

Frightening enough, but Kara’s rage wasn’t done manifesting. After what seemed like decades of being mesmerized by this transformation of righteous anger, that glow exploded into flame, and it was as if Kara had become the Sun itself, become Rage itself, hair golden and flamelike, fire in her eyes as she blasted off from the ground, flying toward Astra with a speed she had never seen before. Her fight against this Saiyan who chose to protect humans—it became futile, her defeat humiliating.

More humiliating than anything was Kara’s refusal to kill her. That righteous rage reeled itself in just at the last moment, and the fiery glow around Kara’s body simmered and dulled until she looked nothing like the godlike creature that was curled somewhere deep in her heart. She looked at Astra with pity now, rage replaced with a peculiar calm, one both pitying but firm. Astra couldn’t hurt her—couldn’t hurt anyone—and Kara left her there. Left her to lick her wounds, to try to force her broken body to function on the most basic of levels.

When she was finally able to make her way back to the dwelling she’d come to call home these past few years, she dragged herself to a mirror. She needed to see it. Needed to see her own brokenness, her defeat, the blood smeared across her lip, the cracked ribs she pressed her hands against.

Rage at her own defeat ripped through her and she dropped her head back with a cry that shattered the windows. Weak as she felt, she held onto that rage, tried to wrestle control over it, tried to mirror what she had seen go through Kara.

But it was a thin, reedy, empty rage. And though she felt a heat run through her that made her think for a moment she might have grabbed onto something like she’d seen Kara exhibit, it fizzled, recognizing itself as just another weakness, and Astra dropped to her knees, just as broken as before.

When she looked up at the mirror again, there was a single streak of silver in her hair, as if she had nearly grasped what Kara had—nearly, and then nothing. If that streak was all she had to show for her troubles, then what good was she? What right had she ever had in trying to control these people whose savior could turn her protective fury to pure gold?

She waited for months to heal, and when she found herself able to stand, to walk, to fly, she went to find Kara, to try to find that gold in herself.

*

She didn’t hate Kara. She wanted to. But the Saiyan who acted like a human gave her mercy. And when Astra begged her forgiveness for the killing of that innocent, Kara gave her that as well. 

She also gave her food. 

A lot of food.

“The fastest way to redemption is through the stomach,” Kara informed her happily, digging in to a basket full of human snacks. She held her hand out for Astra to take some, and Astra accepted hesitantly.

“You’re saying I achieve redemption by…eating,” she said doubtfully.

Kara crunched on a handful of chips thoughtfully, then shrugged good-naturedly. “That and push-ups, sit-ups, and plenty of juice,” she said, and quickly downed some of said juice, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I don’t think I understand,” Astra ventured.

Kara clapped her on the shoulder, her strength so embarrassingly surpassing Astra’s that Astra’s nearly indestructible body here on Earth nearly crumpled.

“Oh—sorry,” Kara said quickly, removing her hand. She scratched her head. “You’re not a bad person, Astra,” she mused. “A bad person doesn’t seek forgiveness for wrong-doing—more importantly, a bad person doesn’t ever try to _right_ those wrongs. Bad people look for excuses out of their bad behavior, but you came to me and you told me you wanted to do good. That you had killed, that you had done wrong, that you wanted to fix things. But your initial reasons were never evil, only your executions. There are things you still have to fight, Astra, but it isn’t me, and it certainly isn’t the people of Earth. It’s the darkness in you. And to defeat that darkness, you need to train.”

“Train how, exactly?”

“I told you,” Kara said, patting her own stomach contentedly. “Sit-ups, push-ups, and—“

“And juice,” Astra finished.

“Plenty of it,” Kara agreed. She sobered up, and put her hand more gently on Astra’s shoulder. “You need to train yourself physically so that you can do battle on the inside, to be prepared, to fight off darkness. First the darkness inside you, then the darkness that threatens others.” She straightened up. “I can help you train for that. I can help make you stronger.”

Astra looked up at her, this veritable… _child._ This child who now glowed, subtly, not with rage, but with a confident power. To be trained by _her?_ To learn to be strong from _her?_ This young thing who could rip her apart—who _had_ ripped her apart—but was choosing to help her fight against inner demons?

No, Astra didn’t hate Kara.

She was jealous of her.

She was jealous of her, and soon, she came to love her.

A soul so kind, so warm…it only seemed to make her even more invincible, and Astra couldn’t help but adore her for it, and to wish for it for herself. That peace Kara had with herself. Peace that had been fought for, that had required transformation through rage, through fear…but still, peace. Kara was power and peace, all in one.

It was something Astra yearned for, but after nearly a year training with her, it was no longer anything she expected to achieve herself. This level of “Super” that Kara had ascended to—Astra simply had too much darkness in her. She could never access that power while she was so entrenched in fighting herself.

Then came the day that another young Saiyan arrived on Earth—Alex Danvers, who informed them that she was from the future and that if they had any interest in saving their planet, there was no time to waste.

*

Astra looked over at Alex through the flames of the bonfire the night she arrived. This self-proclaimed Saiyan from the future who had come to save them from something that had yet to happen.

“You can’t seriously be considering what this stranger is saying,” she hissed at Kara. _“Androids_ destroying the Earth? How stupid does she think we are? And claiming to be Saiyan as well—I’ve yet to feel any kind of power from her. And why the sword, if she _is_ one of us? What reason would she have for such a breakable thing—“

She whipped her hand out reflexively as she caught sight of a flash of green coming at her out of the corner of her eye. Her reflexes proved good—in her hand, she now held the bladed weapon she had just spoken of. Shocked by its sudden appearance in her hand, she looked across the fire again at Alex who, it became clear, was the one who had just tossed it to her.

Almost as soon as she registered where the blade had come from, her body began doubling over in pain, and she dropped the thing, scrambling back in horror. Never before had she felt pain like that. She stared in shock as Alex got up and circled around to her side of the fire, picking up the sword and slipping it back in the sheath she had slung over her shoulder.

“What was that?” Astra demanded hoarsely as Alex returned calmly to her seat. 

“It’s a substance harmful only to the Saiyan race,” she answered. “A friend of mine forged it, made me a weapon out of it. He hoped it would prove useful against the androids.”

“Oh?” Astra snarled, pushing herself back up to her seat on the fallen log she’d previously been perched upon. “And why doesn’t it hurt you, if you’re one of us as you claim?”

Alex rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I’m _half_ -Saiyan, actually,” she admitted, “and half-human. I guess the human in me protects me from it.” She shrugged awkwardly. 

“And the…substance…” Kara said tentatively, “was that…effective? Against your evil future androids?”

Alex hesitated before giving a stiff nod. “Not in time,” she answered softly. “Not in time to save anyone. But yes.” She straightened, looking squarely at Kara. “That’s why I had to come back, to warn you—both of you. The two of you are the strongest warriors on this planet, you’re the only ones who ever had any chance at defeating the androids, but Kara, you became ill before the androids even began attacking, and by the time they finally did, you were already dead.”

“And Astra?” Kara asked, not missing a beat, as if Alex’s warning of her death were secondary. Unimportant, even. “Why wasn’t she able to help in the future?”

“She tried, but she just…” Alex looked at Astra apologetically, dark eyes shining with regret. “You just weren’t strong enough. I’m sorry.

She turned back to Kara and there was a redness to her cheeks showing in the flickering fire.

“I came back here to help you train, to teach you everything I know about the androids, so that when they’re here, we’ll be able to stop them before they can hurt anyone,” she said. 

“You’re going to train us?” Astra asked haughtily. “A half-breed who has yet to show us even a shred of proof that she even _is_ one of us, let alone someone we can tr—“

She startled as Alex stood fluidly, flames lifting around her body, the energy causing her hair to stand on end, giving its darkness a near-golden glow. That glow—nearly identical to Kara’s.

But while that power was there, Alex stood motionless. Straight, strong. There was none of the fury in her eyes that Kara had had when she became a Super Saiyan. This seemed like it was a second skin to this woman, one she slipped in and out of, easy in spite of the explosion of power it radiated—power that Astra could feel thrumming against her own bones.

Much to her annoyance, Kara clapped her hands excitedly at the transformation and exclaimed with perfect innocence, “Neat!”

*

Alex trained with them daily for hours on end. And Kara was quick to pick up on not only her techniques, but the ease of her power. Her growth in strength was easily discernible, and would have been even if Astra had been incapable of feeling it the way all Saiyans could feel one another’s power.

Astra did not match her development.

Oh, her technique was exquisite. Precise. Cutting. Both Alex and Kara praised it, impressed—not that Astra needed the “future” Saiyan’s approval.

But she was getting nowhere when it came to that inner power, that hidden level of “Super.”

A moment of frustration at her own failure had her slinging a disc of power at a nearby barn, slicing it in half before burning it to the ground.

Kara, fortunately, was off training on her own and missed the entire thing.

Alex wasn’t. She turned and stared at Astra in shock.

Astra shrugged. “No one has lived there for years, relax,” she grumbled.

Alex cocked her head, dark eyes assessing her—it took Astra a moment to recognize the small spark of humor dancing in them. 

“You can’t just… _train_ yourself to become a Super Saiyan,” Alex told her gently. “I mean, the training opens you up to it, helps you get in touch with your power, but…it’s not something you just…pop into one day.”

“You could have fooled me,” Astra said darkly. “That was quite a display the first night we met you. You may as well have been putting a jacket on.”

“It’s kind of more like taking one off,” Alex told her, and Astra’s eyes narrowed when the corners of the younger woman’s lips twitched in the hint of a smile. 

“Is that supposed to be funny in some way?”

“No, it’s—“ Alex shook her head. “I just mean, it’s a release of power. It’s not something you put on, you’re not putting up these walls of power like I see you trying to do all the time. It’s a shedding of something, an opening.”

Astra looked down. “I prefer _building_ walls of power,” she said. 

“To keep things out?” Alex asked, tilting her head with a curiosity that bordered on critical. “Or to keep things in?”

Astra allowed herself the smallest of wry smiles. “In,” she admitted. “I can’t have the darkness in me take control again. I’ve hurt too many people. I don’t want to do that ever again. I’m trying to be stronger than it, stronger than the darkness.”

Alex regarded her for a long moment. “Becoming a Super Saiyan isn’t just about power,” she said. “It’s about purity. Kara didn’t reach her Super Saiyan form because of rage alone, she reached it because of the pureness of that rage, the pureness of what it stood for. She’s a hero.”

Astra tried not to grimace, tried not to recoil, or feel herself crumble on the inside. “She is,” she agreed softly. “And I want to be. I truly…I want to protect these people, their home. But I think I’ve done too much wrong to ever reach any kind of pureness, no matter what form it took.”

She flinched as Alex reached out and touched the tips of her fingers to the silver streak in her hair.

“Looks like you got pretty close to that pureness one time,” Alex offered, gaze shifting from it to Astra, eyes so intense it took Astra a moment to realize there was a smile twitching at Alex’s lips again. A kind one. One that hinted at a promise, that maybe there was hope for her.

“I can help you get there,” Alex said. “We need you if we’re going to defeat these androids.”

“The androids I still haven’t decided I believe you about.” But there was no real bite this time, and Alex’s smile widened.

“You said you want to be a hero,” she said. “That’s a pure wish. It’s a good start.”

Astra looked at her curiously, struck by this thing that felt as if Alex had faith in her. Kara had faith in her, but from Alex, it was different. Kara gave her faith willingly, openly, generously. Alex seemed like a woman whose faith was hard to win—not win, but earn. 

To be on the receiving end of even a sliver of that, Astra felt like some coil of energy in her opened just the slightest bit.

*

The months dragged on, and they continued to train tirelessly. While Kara had long ascended past the both of them to where she needed to train away from them in solace, Astra remained Alex’s faithful shadow. That faith, that moment of contact when Alex had touched her fingers to the streak that was evidence of both Astra’s potential for greatness, and her failure…it had become something that Astra yearned for. She tried opening herself, tried so hard to understand what this pureness was that both Alex and Kara seemed to have in them, not muddled by darkness.

Though sometimes, Astra glimpsed a small darkness in Alex. There _was_ some kind of inner battle happening, but somehow it wasn’t hindering her, wasn’t holding her back. 

“Everyone’s got darkness in them, Astra,” Alex told her when she brought it up in the midst of a particularly difficult training session. “Even Kara. Some of us just have more than others. It doesn’t mean that has to define you.”

“Which is _why_ I’m trying to build up those walls,” Astra growled through gritted teeth, trying to feel the source of her power as Alex had been instructing her. Every muscle in her body ached, cried out for this session to stop. While frustrated energy grew in her, her body trembled from the effort of keeping up with Alex as she took her through this rigorous series of forms.

“Well locking it away and ignoring it doesn’t help either,” Alex told her, movements fluid, the only hint of exhaustion from her the light sheen of sweat beaded across her skin.

“Then what _does?”_ Astra snapped, halting in the midst of her form, turning to face Alex head on. Her power flared, giving off a heat that sent several pieces of gravel skittering away from her.

“The source of those dark places in you,” Alex said, unafraid of her growing power. “You find that source, you open yourself up to becoming whole.” Wisdom from a woman so young…it infuriated Astra.

“What if there is no _source?”_ Astra demanded, the energy around her swirling dangerously. “What if that darkness is just… _there?_ Pointless. Clinging. Just…me.”

Alex stalked forward frustratedly, taking her face in her hand, wrapping the streak of silver around her finger. “Do you see this?” she said roughly. “This proves otherwise. You’re not defined by darkness. Why did you feel this?”

“I was angry,” Astra snarled. 

“That’s not it.”

“I was ashamed then. Kara was stronger than I was. She was better than me, she _took_ from me—“

“That’s not what it was, Astra, _think!”_ Alex exclaimed, sounding desperate. “It’s not about Kara, it’s about you! Why were you so angry? Why did you feel she took from you?”

“She took my chance at saving this planet!” Astra shouted, energy flaring so painfully around her, she was afraid she would either crumble or burst into flame. “She’s left this world in the hands of innocent fools who will only destroy themselves the way my world was destroyed…”

“She didn’t take that from you, Astra,” Alex said, shaking her urgently. She took Astra by the shoulders, supporting her as she shook, urgency in her eyes. “She gave you a chance. The world isn’t just in the hands of humans, it’s in Kara’s hands, it’s in my hands, it’s in _yours._ There’s a hero in there, I know it, I can see it, Astra, I can—“

Astra leaned forward and crushed their lips together, power flaring one more time, like it was trying to pull Alex in with her, and then sluiced away.

Alex pulled away from the kiss slowly, eyes wide, surprised. She opened her mouth like she was trying to speak, but couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to say.

The confusion drew Astra’s awareness to the fact that she really was very young, very naive in spite of her strength—young and naive and still giving everything she had to save this place.

Giving everything she had to help Astra find something in her, reach this level of “Super”, the absence of which was devastating to her.

Maybe that devastation was showing, because Alex pressed back in after a moment, pushing Astra back against the wall of the warehouse they were using to store all their equipment. 

Astra felt blissful weakness as her back hit the wall. Boneless, she still deepened the kiss, hardly in control of anything, just wanting Alex’s faith in her on her lips, wanted to taste it, see if it was as sweet as it promised.

But at the same time, no. What if it wasn’t? What if it wasn’t real? What if Alex had just painted that faith on her lips, and it was just a coating, and Alex would disappear beneath it…

Astra shoved her away, panting, and Alex stared at her, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” Astra breathed, shaking her head like it could dispel what had just happened.

“You don’t—“

But Astra had already pushed herself off the wall, making clumsily for Kara’s house. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled again, and tried not to think of Alex standing there, watching her go.

*

Alex hadn’t lied about the creation of the androids, nor the destruction they brought.

It arose so quickly, it felt more like a sudden storm whipped off the coast rather than an attack orchestrated by two half-humans. An entire city ravaged in the space of an hour. A stretch of countryside split apart by careless hurls of power, numberless dead in their wake.

Astra stared at the news reporter on the television, unable to believe the destruction she was seeing recorded. These humans she had come to respect, to want to keep safe…gone in an instant. She grabbed the remote and switched it off, racing to Kara’s house where Alex already was, strapping her sword across her shoulder. Kara stood beside her, and they both gave off that flame of power, the one that seemed to turn them gold. Powerful. Powerful enough to take on these androids, to save the world the way Astra hadn’t been able to. The way Astra still wasn’t able to.

But Super Saiyan or no, she did feel what power she did have flaring inside her, and soon it swirled restless around her—no gold to it, no purity to it, but strength and anger nonetheless.

The three of them looked at each other, faces hard and determined, a tension between them all that betrayed the fear that they would never see each other again. That this was Do or Die in the most apocalyptic sense. They seemed to reach the same level of resolve at the same time, because in unison, they took off, and made for where the androids were sure to be headed next.

*

Astra grunted as her back hit the side of a cliff, courtesy of having been thrown into it by Android 17. Her head swam for a moment before she shook it off, angry with herself for having even felt such weakness. 

Far from her, she sensed Kara and Alex taking on the second android, 18, power flaring and bouncing off the walls of this violence-birthed canyon.

She braced herself against the cliff, and used it to propel herself forward into the sky, slamming her elbow into 17’s throat—to his apparent amusement as he grabbed her by the arm and flung her to the ground far below them.

She cried out in pain as her body smashed into the earth, curling up immediately in defense as a series of energy blasts rained down on her with such force and speed it was all she could do to dodge and roll out of the way.

The barrage let up, and Astra dared to look up—finding that 17 was holding his hands up above his head with a smirk, gathering some sort of power, manifesting it in a ball of glowing blue energy in his open palms. 

Panic shooting through her, she made to lunge away from it, only to find that her leg was trapped.

Mighty Saiyan warrior, beaten to a pulp, destined to die weak and ineffectual as she had felt since her planet’s demise. Ineffectual to save anyone, not herself, not this world that had become her home. She lifted her hands in an effort to send her own bolt of power up to intercept his, desperation making her foolish. There was no time—17’s ball of energy was already shooting for her…

She heard a shout from far away, and in what couldn’t have been so long as a blink, Alex’s silhouette appeared between her and the bolt of power. 

It hit her straight on—she had used her entire body as a shield to deflect it from Astra. And deflect it did, or, disperse it did. As it collided with Alex’s body, bits of it broke free and shoots of blue and green sparked off to leave minor craters of destruction around them.

Astra hardly noticed them. All she could see was Alex’s body, plummeting down from the sky, crashing down into the Earth beside her, limp, lifeless.

Astra choked on a cry. She had seen Alex deflect beams of power from Kara over and over, had seen her evade and counteract with ease, time and time again. Surely this time would be no different. Alex would get up, dust herself off, and return to the sky, return to raining retribution down on these half-human butchers.

But there was no movement. Only the wind tugging at Alex’s jacket, whispering through her hair which no longer held its halo of gold but had returned to that dark auburn, the softness of which Astra couldn’t forget under her fingers. She stared in shock, in disbelief, in denial at the broken body before her, and couldn’t see Alex, couldn’t feel her, couldn’t find her.

Fear rose in her. Then anger. Then despair. Power rose with it, the edges of it swirling the air around her in what felt like a building storm. She reached with trembling fingers to touch Alex’s face, to trace down to her jaw, so certain…she had to wake up, she had to, she couldn’t…

The anger in her grew, sharp and jagged, but thin, like a thousand tiny pieces of glass, only hurting _her_ , only tearing _her_ up. Her Alex, gone, her Alex who had helped her fight off her darkness, who wanted so badly to help her be the hero she herself wanted to be.

And all of a sudden her power shifted. It was no longer simple, empty anger. Nor was it even rage. It was a ghost—not a ghost, a spirit, burning hot in her. The memory, the feeling of Alex’s faith in her roared, filling her every vein, that source she had begged her to find, that source of the darkness—desperation to save what was too late to save. She couldn’t save the past. Nor could Alex. But they could save each other—could have—and that faith burned, and the power of it coiled and shuddered, and if it burst, god, if it burst, it would take her walls down with it.

She ran her fingers through Alex’s hair, tears running down her face as power whipped around her and she threw her head back and screamed. 

For ages it seemed, and with each second of that cry, her power rose, the earth around her split and cracked, flakes of it rose around her, spun around her as if she was a hurricane. The scream reached its peak—she was either going to pass out, or burst into flame—and this time, she burst into flame.

But it wasn’t the destructive flame she feared. It was pure power surrounding her, running through her, simultaneously shielding her, and providing her with a deadly pureness, and all of a sudden, it was as if the battle was already won. And maybe it already was, with Alex, with Alex’s faith, what battle _couldn’t_ she win…

*

Astra flipped over the queen of hearts card with such agitated force that, had she been around Kryptonite, would have given her a paper cut. She still hissed at the idea of it, and stood abruptly, pacing.

She hated that dream. Of all of them, she hated this one the most. This one where Alex left her, lay broken and lifeless beside her. She hated that it had taken Alex’s death to find any sense of strength within herself. It wasn’t how she felt. She wanted that faith in life, wanted not just faith by itself, but that faith from Alex specifically.

Astra sat back down, just as abruptly as she had stood up. This “wanting Alex” thing…wanting her faith, wanting her trust, wanting…well, wanting contact, in any way possible…

Astra gathered up the cards and reshuffled them. She’d lost to herself this time. Try again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a dumb nerd. I accidentally fell back into a re-watch of Dragon Ball Z recently, and I absolutely could not separate Trunks from Alex. Like…I just couldn’t.
> 
> Also, I know this was kind of a weird thing to go with since it’s based off an actual thing that I’m not sure a bunch of you have watched, but like I said, I just couldn’t shake that idea that Alex is totally Trunks. Tried to do my best explaining the world through Winn in the beginning, hopefully it worked and made sense? Such a silly show, but, as with Winn, it was definitely one of those things when I was growing up that Made Me Into The Woman I Am Today.
> 
> Just needed to nerd out a little, sorry for all those who are scratching your heads like, whyyyy did this just happen…?
> 
> Also I’m sorry this ended so tragically for Alex! It never happens again, I swear, Astra’s just a very insecure and anxiety-ridden lil Kryptonian having nightmares. Poor puppy.
> 
> Alright, things are going to take a turn for the crackish silliness in the next chapter, so strap in and get out your cowboy hats.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, everybody, and thanks for putting up with this one, I know it’s a weird mess of weird messiness.
> 
> (Also I swear I’m getting around to reading and commenting on everyone else’s fics, it’s just taking some time—I’ve got work to go to, and like I said before, I haven’t exactly written the rest of my fics for this week yet, so…I’m a little pressed for time here. Can’t wait to read them all though, Day 2 of this week and I’m already loving it/being stressed out by it :) Happy Day 2!


	3. Day 3: Historical AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late Day 3 Historical (totally not historical) AU submission! I have a legitimate excuse though--there was the wildest storm I've ever seen and my entire street lost power so there was no way to upload. I CAN'T CONTROL THE WEATHER, I'M SORRY!

If the dream about the Super Saiyans was her most hated of the seven, this next one was simply the most baffling.

To begin with, it involved her spending an abundant amount of time being uncomfortable on the back of a horse. In her twelve years hiding out on Earth, she had never once saw fit to sit astride another creature for transportation, and even if she had, it would not have been on an animal so flighty, or unpredictable. It was simply unsafe, particularly for creatures such as humans who were unfathomably fragile. 

It _just made no sense_. Human beings had gone to great lengths to breed all manner of sizes with _dogs,_ and dogs were more solid, loyal, and faithful animals. Why had no one bred dogs the size of horses? They would be far more trustworthy, and with those fangs and claws, they had the added benefit of being practically a secondary weapon.

Using horses as transportation was simply not one of mankind’s wisest decisions.

That was the main thing Astra had been concerned with as she had watched yesterday’s Spaghetti Western film on Alexandra’s wretched television. _Why horses?_ she kept wondering as the animals threw men off their backs, reared, kicked, fled at loud noises. _Of all things, why horses?_

It made no difference, she supposed—the animals were already a worldwide-used means of transportation, she supposed it was too late to advise against them this late in the game. 

Late in the game. She frowned as she flipped over a card, not pleased with its lack of help in this quest she was on to beat the solitaire layout, particularly because of the pattern of seven dark spades, which, frankly, looked exactly like a trail of the beastly creature’s hoof prints.

*

Astra bent forward from the saddle and wrapped her arms with what she hoped looked like skilled and fearless confidence around her untrustworthy steed’s neck. For some reason, bent over like this, her posture didn’t quite feel like the posture of her gang of fellow outlaws on their horses around her.

“You sit up straight and use the reins to steer, ma’am,” her second in command whispered helpfully at her side, and she was grateful for his discretion.

“I’m aware of that, Non, I was simply…showing affection to the animal before we take off,” Astra said stiffly, relinquishing her hold around the irritable beast’s neck and grabbing onto the horn of the saddle as she straightened up slowly. The second she let go of the horn and grabbed as tightly as she could to the reins, she felt the animal fidget beneath her, and she pressed her lips  together, mentally preparing herself to be thrown. 

She heard a snort from one of her men who nudged the comrade at his side. “And we’re following _her_ to rob Old National?” he sniggered. “Cain’t even sit up on a horse right—“

Astra dropped the reins from one hand, flipped the pistol from her thigh holster with near blinding speed, and shot a single bullet at the man, sending his hat flying right off his head. His horse reared in panic, and the man fell—just not quite far enough. His foot snagged in the stirrup, and as his horse fled into the horizon, he was dragged along with it, screaming.

Living proof that these animals were not to be trusted. She was amazed none of the others had reacted quite so wildly from the sound of her gun.

With as careless a look as she could muster, she flipped the pistol in her hand with expert ease, shoving it back into its holster. Horses were one thing, but no one outshot Astra In-Ze, and she seemed to have convinced these men in front of her here as she looked icily from each one to the other, making sure she could see the fear in all of their eyes.

“Now you listen to me,” she said dangerously. “I’ve been all around this country.” True. “I’ve gone on many a raid.” True. “I’ve razed many a village.” Also true.

“I have also learned to ride the ocean waves on the back of a giant fish.” Not true. “I have learned to navigate the forests on the back of a wolf.” Not true. “And I have learned to ride the wind on the back of an eagle.” Definitely not true.

“That I have never seen fit to ride such an unsteady beast as the one currently underneath me just proves I’m smarter than the whole pack of you together,” she concluded with a growl.

They all looked ashamed, dipping their heads, looking down at the ground.

“Now, if all of you are ready to stop flapping your lips, we’ll be on our way. Should be able to reach Midvale before sundown, and then tomorrow? It’s on to Old National. And that’s where the _real_ fun begins.”

She winced as her men cheered, worried the noise might spook her horse, but when it didn’t, she dumped her black Stetson onto her head and nudged her heels into her horse, praying she wouldn’t slide off the damned thing.

*

By the time they reached Midvale, she was ready to drink an entire saloon out of business. Now normally, she wasn’t one for drinks—they slowed her mind, and her mind was the only thing she could depend on around the rest of these criminals. But after three hours trying to pretend she was right at home on the back of a galloping hell beast, she had every intention of drinking the whole place dry.

That was simply not to be. 

As she tied her horse to the hitching post outside Noonan’s Saloon and prepared to go in, she was nearly bowled over when a human figure was flung out of the establishment by a man who could only be the owner, double dutch doors swinging back and forth in her wake. The human figure seemed to catch her footing just barely, before tipping over to the ground on her ass, brown Stetson falling crosswise over her eyes.

“And _stay_ out, Danvers!” the owner shouted at her. “Drink me dry with no way to pay for it, then start a fight with my Mon-El, you’ll be lucky if I don’t report you to Henshaw! I best not see your face around here again!”

“I—best not see _your_ face around here again!” the woman called Danvers slurred stupidly, clumsily drawing a knife from her belt. “And you tell your son…he better keep his hands off my sister, or next time I see him, I’ll take his balls instead of his ear…”

Astra saw Noonan’s owner—Noonan, she supposed—go for the gun at his belt, and she quickly moved in front of the young, _deeply_ inebriated woman, drawing her own pistol before his hand could even close over his.

He froze, and she shook her head with mock warning at him. 

As if he even stood the slightest chance if this got out of hand, she thought with an inward smirk. 

“Why don’t you go on back inside,” she suggested under a growl. “My boys are thirsty, and you look like just the man we need to fix that problem.”

Noonan looked at all of them, at Astra with her silver pistol, at the circle of eight men around her with their hands hovering over their own, and made the wise decision to throw his hands forward with an unconvincing show of carelessness and a surrendering “Bah!” before turning back inside. Her men followed him in, and she could tell they sensed blood in the water with his show of weakness. If tonight didn’t end in a street wide brawl, she’d be shocked.

“Ma’am, you coming?” Non prompted as she continued to watch their procession, rather than joining them.

“You go on in,” she said with a shake of her head. She jerked her head at the drunken Danvers woman behind her, who had gotten to her feet, in a sense—she was currently slumped over the hitching post, apparently trying to gauge the distance through her boozy eyes of how much farther she’d have to slump forward in order to pat one of the horses on the nose. “I better get this one somewhere safe before she does anything else stupid.”

Non nodded, pointing down the street. “I saw an inn over on the corner there,” he said. “Me and the rest of the boys will meet you there in the morning.”

She nodded sharply, then turned to the woman as Non followed the rest of her men inside. With a sigh, she walked over to her, wary of the closeness of the horses, who looked agitated by Danvers’ attempts to pat their faces. 

“Hey,” she tried to get her attention. “Miss Danvers. Can you walk?” She reached her hand forward, taking the woman’s face in her hand, trying to get her look at her.

Danvers obeyed, and her eyes widened as she locked gazes with Astra. A dazed kind of smile split her face and she mumbled, “I’ll be a horse’s ass, if you’re not the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Astra blinked in surprise, then grunted as Danvers slumped forward into her arms, apparently having decided that this was as good a time and place as any to go to sleep. Astra huffed, trying to angle herself so that Danvers’ hat wasn’t smacking her in the face. She heard a snort and a whinny from beside her and glared at her stupid horse.

“What are you laughing at?” she snapped, then turned and did her best to drag the drunken Danvers woman to the inn down the street.

*

When morning came, Astra wasn’t sure what to do. With no idea where the Danvers woman lived, she had supposed bringing her up to share her room at the inn would at least keep her safe for the night. Once there, she had taken off the woman’s leather vest, and pants, and shoes, and hat, and dumped her onto the bed. The angle was awkward, so Astra had tried to yank her into a more comfortable position, finding that really, all she’d been able to do was make it so that Danvers’ limbs were sprawled all the way across the bed, and there was absolutely nowhere for _her_ to get in.

So, she’d taken the chair in the corner of the room, one hand supporting her cheek, the other resting on her pistol. It wasn’t the most comfortable she’d ever been, but it was far from the worst. Couple months locked up in a prison cell had definitely put the whole “comfort” definition into perspective for her.

She woke up that morning to faint, gold light coming in through the window. The rays landed perfectly on the Danvers woman still sprawled across the bed, and for the first time, Astra was able to get a clear look at her.

She was all sharp angles, with sharp cropped hair to match. Perfect angles. Astra had the sudden and overwhelming desire to trace her fingers over every single one of them, from the perfectly straight length of her nose, to the height of her cheeks, to the sharp line of her jaw, down her neck…

Which was when she realized that Alex must have shrugged her shirt off at some point during the night, which meant that, along with the uncomfortable leather pants Astra had taken off her last night, she was left to nothing but her undershirt, and some underwear. The sunlight helped illuminate definition in her legs and arms, and the lower part of her abs which were partially displayed by the accidentally-lifted hem of her undershirt.

Astra couldn’t help but allow herself to gaze at her for a moment, or to imagine pushing the hem up a little higher and pressing and dragging her lips up the length of her torso. 

What a pleasant and frustrating thought to have first thing in the morning.

Grumbling to herself, she went about getting her own clothes on—pants here, shirt there. All of these things needed so desperately to be washed…as did she, for that matter. She went to the bowl of water on the dresser, unbuttoning her shirt and dropping it down a little from her shoulders so she could rub some fresh water at the back of her neck.

“Boy did _I_ ever make some good decisions last night,” came a voice behind her, and Astra practically jumped right out of her skin. She wheeled around to find the Danvers woman still lying in bed, but with her elbow leaning on the mattress, hand propping up her head as her eyes roved up and down Astra’s body, a stupid smile splitting her face.

“Beg your pardon?” Astra asked, still surprised by Danvers’ wakefulness. Her gaze shifted subtly around the room in search of her pistol in the event this went sour, unable to believe that she had let it out of her sight for even a _second…_

She lifted her chin warningly as Danvers rolled, still a little clumsily, out of bed, making her way over to her. Danvers didn’t seem to take the head tilt as anything notable—rather, cupping her cheek with a startling confidence—even possessiveness—and pulling her into a deep kiss.

Astra _mphhh’_ d in shock against her lips, and jerked her head back—neither of which seemed to concern Danvers in the slightest. She backed Astra against the wall with a grin, angling her head to brush against the shell of her ear.

Astra shuddered at the feeling, warm breath in her ear, hands wandering to her waist, pressing her hips against the wall to keep her in place.

“Wanna go for another round before you leave?” Danvers murmured, nuzzling into the side of her neck.

“Another rou—?” Astra tried to question, before realizing what Danvers thought must have happened. “No, we di—“ She broke off with a sort of choked-in gasp as Danvers began kissing down the side of her neck, sucking on a particularly sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear. That…Astra’s knees went a little weak. She might not mind if if that continued. But also, no… “—I think you’re c-confused abou—“ And now there was nipping, and teeth tugging at her earlobe, Danvers’ hands gripping at her waist, pushing their hips together, then wandering one down and around to squeeze her ass. Astra bit down on her lower lip to keep from making any sounds of encouragement, but was unable to stop her hands from shooting up and tangling fingers through Danvers’ hair. “You-you’re really friendly, aren’t you…”

Danvers finally straightened up with a grin. “Not really,” she said. “But I don’t mind getting friendly with you…”

She leaned in again, but this time Astra was ready for her—possibly just because of that ridiculous line—pressing her hands against her shoulders to keep her at least slightly at bay. “Danvers,” she reprimanded, much to breathlessly.

“Alex,” the other woman corrected with a smile. 

Quickly followed by a frown. 

“Did I…not tell you my name before we did all this?” She waved her hand between the two of them and the bed. Something seemed to click in her brain. “And…did you not tell me _yours?”_

“That’s—“ Astra finally succeeded in pushing her away so there were at least a respectable few inches between them. She ran her fingers back through her own hair, with more nervousness than she’d like to admit. “That’s what I was trying to tell you—we didn’t…do anything.”

Danvers—Alex—went a little pink in the cheeks as she began processing Astra’s words, and she took a small step back. “So you and I didn’t—“

“—We didn’t,” Astra confirmed, clearing her throat uncomfortably. Her discomfort was nothing compared to Alex’s though, as the other woman’s face turned the brightest shade of red Astra had ever seen on a person. Somewhat ironically, she also looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “You were thrown out of that saloon down the street and didn’t seem to know which way was up,” Astra continued awkwardly, “I just brought you here with me so you’d be safe.”

Alex brought her hands to her face in horror. “And then I tried to devour your neck,” she whispered. “I am so—“ she took several steps backward gesturing in a sort of don’t-cross-this-imaginary-line sort of way. “I never would’ve—and what I said—did—just now—Jesus…”

“No, don’t…”

“Seriously, miss, I _never_ would’ve acted like that…I just assumed…”

“Well, you did _just assume_ quite comfortably,” Astra noted. “Is waking up in places you don’t know with women you _also_ don’t know a frequent occurrence in your life?”

“Not as frequent as I’d _like_ it to be,” Alex mock-mumbled, seeming to be trying to make a joke even through her own humiliation. She looked up at Astra, then turned an even deeper shade of red, like she was embarrassed that she’d even tried to make a joke at all. “No, I…maybe once or twice. Just…sometimes have too many…” She curled her fingers like they were wrapped around a glass, and mimed knocking it back. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually,” Astra said, and she moved forward  as smoothly as she could toward the chair she’d slept on, slipping her shirt back over her shoulders and buttoning it. Wishing, a little bit, that she wasn’t. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“That’s probably good,” Alex said, trailing behind her a little, almost like she was still trying to apologize simply by being attentive to every little thing she did. “Sobering cells aren’t the best place to wake up in, I can tell you that much.”

“Well I can’t say much for _sobering_ cells, but I could tell you plenty about jail cells,” Astra mumbled, finding her boots. She sat down to put them on, realizing that Alex was still hovering somewhat, looking lost and still very, very red.

“I don’t believe you know anything about _any_ kind of cells,” she offered like it was a compliment. “You seem too sophisticated for anything that might land you in a place like that. Come to think of it, you don’t even sound like you’re even from _around_ here.”

“Not originally, no,” Astra answered, yanking one boot on.

“You sound city-like,” Alex observed further. “You from the city?”

“Used to be,” Astra said, yanking on the other boot. “Then like I said, I had some up-close encounters with the inside of a jail cell, broke out of that, found myself here. Well, a couple other places first, but I’m here now.”

“You _broke out_ of a jail cell?” Alex asked, eyebrows shooting up. She gave a low whistle. “What’d you do to get in there in the first place?”

Astra’s hand closed around the object she’d been searching for, just behind her on the chair seat. “About the same thing I’m about to do now,” she said coolly, and stood, flipping her pistol out in front of her, pointing it directly at Alex, who lifted her hands up in startled surrender. “I’m going to rob your town blind, Alex Danvers.”

Alex continued to blink in shock at her statement, and Astra flipped the pistol back, jamming it back into her thigh holster, and turning sharply for the door.’

*

She didn’t actually make it _out_ the door.

No sooner had her hand closed around the doorknob, Alex was suddenly pressed up against her back, one hand getting her arms in a lock behind her back and twisting the gun out of her hands, the other reaching around to close warningly around her throat.

“Wh—?”

“Probably should’ve introduced myself a little better,” Alex said. “It’s _Deputy Sheriff_ Alex Danvers.”

Astra blanched.

“Telling the Deputy Sheriff of the town you’re about to rob, that you’re about to rob it…” Alex clicked her tongue musingly. “Kinda sounds like something that’s gonna end you right back up in that jail cell you did such a fine job breaking out of.”

Astra struggled in her arms, frustrated to learn that that light muscle definition she’d seen paled in comparison to the way she actually felt. Alex let go of her neck at her struggle, bringing that hand back to tug her head back by her hair instead, and pushing the side of her face restrainingly against the door.

“Kind of lacking in handcuffs right now,” Alex mumbled, sounding genuinely annoyed. “Kind of lacking in clothes, too.” She sighed frustratedly as Astra struggled again. “And I’m honestly real grateful for you taking care of me last night…and real, _real_ sorry about the whole…misunderstanding…I had waking up…” She pushed in harder to get Astra to stop struggling so much. “I’ve still gotta bring you in though. It’s really nothing personal—“

She broke off with a grunt as Astra slammed her boot down on the instep of Alex’s bare foot, reflexively letting her go, and hopping back several steps with her hands clutched painfully around her foot. Astra stooped to grab her gun, then yanked the door open, boots clattering as she sped down the stairs and shot through the door. 

Her men weren’t up yet and she had no idea how to contact them at this point—she’d have to circle back around later—maybe if she just ducked around this corner until—

“How in the hell…?” she mumbled under breath as she glanced over her shoulder.

Alex Danvers seemed to have recovered very quickly, and was now streaking toward her at an alarming pace. 

No one was as fast as Astra, though. She sprinted, blood pumping through her legs, making for those damnable horses. Only one way to escape for now. She’d have to get back to her men somehow, but at this very moment in time…

Her heart sank as she realized her men had unsaddled the horses. Only the bridles and reins remained to keep them tied to the hitching post. 

Trying to steady herself, she skidded to a halt in front of her horse, once again becoming frustrated by its existence when it reared in alarm at her sudden appearance.

“I don’t have time for your anxieties, horse, we’ve got to go!” she snapped—both at him, and somewhat at herself. She grabbed his reins, unwrapping them from the post as quickly as she could, and pulled him forward, wondering how in the hell she was supposed to get onto his back without stirrups to pull herself up by.

She was just going to have to leap, it seemed, as she glanced over her shoulder and realized Alex Danvers was only a handful of yards away. Squeezing her eyes shut to allow herself just a small second of fear, she grabbed the base of the horse’s neck and used her arms to pull herself up, swinging her leg over the side.

The horse didn’t like that. It flattened its ears against its head, and Astra was barely able to grab his reins in her hand before he took off, apparently hoping she’d fall right off him.

She nearly did. She had strong legs though, and she squeezed her knees as hard into his sides as she could, leaning forward for more balance. When she thought she had gained enough stability, she dared to look over her shoulder—and blanched again as she saw Alex Danvers—wearing nothing but an undershirt and underwear, leap onto one of her men’s other horses, kicking her heels into its sides, propelling it forward and after her.

Astra turned forward, hating the consequences of what she was about to do, and kicked her heels into her own horse’s sides, making it whinny angrily, and lunge forward into an even faster gallop. This time with small kicks to try and shake her off his back.

Astra shut her eyes, squeezing her legs harder to keep herself on, and words kept spinning in her brain, _Why horses? Why horses? Of all the animals in the world, why horses…?_

She peeked her eyes open, and became suddenly aware of a streak of red, white, and blue headed straight toward her from the side. That wasn’t Alex. No, this new character wore an outfit of gaudy red and blue, topped by a white Stetson on her head, speeding toward her on the back of a dappled white horse who moved smooth as poured water.

Astra kicked her horse harder, unable to fathom where this new pursuer had come from, but it was to no avail. In practically the time it took for her to blink, the red-white-and blue speedster was upon her, and the woman attired just so flung herself off her own horse, tackling Astra right off hers, landing them both in a tumble down on the ground.

Astra supposed the White Hat woman must have landed safe and on top, because all of a sudden, everything around her went black, and she spun out of consciousness.

*

When she awoke, she was back in her old jail cell.

She blinked.

No, she wasn’t. This one was smaller, but more open, big metal bars separating her from the room just beyond her. County jail. Little bit more comfortable.

She stiffened in surprise as she realized Alex Danvers was leaned against the wall just outside, having looked at her the moment she’d stirred to wakefulness. She was clothed this time.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said, coming closer to lean her hand on the bars of the cell instead of the wall.

“What, no kiss this time?” Astra grumbled, getting to her feet.

Alex grinned like she was going for swagger, but her cheeks still turned red the instant Astra mentioned her…mistake.

“I’m afraid outlaws aren’t quite my thing, Miss…I never got your name, did I?”

“It’s Astra,” Astra told her coldly. “You can remember that when I’ve broken out of here.”

Alex gave a harsh laugh, and tapped on the bars of the cell. “No one can get through these,” she said.

Astra took a step forward. “Just because _you_ could never get out of your sobering cell,” she said with a sharply raised eyebrow. Alex fidgeted, and it was a little sweet. “How exactly has a drunk like you manage to become Deputy Sheriff of the entire town?”

Alex frowned, actually looking hurt, and Astra felt a little bad. 

“Haven’t been a drunk—haven’t had a _drink—_ for two years,” she said quietly. “Sheriff Henshaw picked me up off the street—a little like you did, I guess.” She frowned suddenly as she made that comparison. She shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. “He got me to clean myself up, saw potential in me. He gave me a trial period, trained me, hired me not too long after that.”

Astra stepped forward again. “So what changed last night?” she asked. 

Alex shifted her hat on her head uncomfortably and shrugged. “I had a fight with my sister,” she answered. “A bad one. Learned she was moonlighting as some kind of vigilante, putting herself in danger—she came home with a bullet in her arm last night, I had to dig it out of her. I lost my cool after that, I guess. Drank a little. Then drank a lot. Then started a fight with this ruffian’s been hassling her the past few weeks…” She broke off, eyes flicking up and down the bars of the cell. “Guess this isn’t the ideal place for me to thank you for picking me up, but still…thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Astra said, stepping forward again. “Or…yours, given what you assumed we did last night.”

Alex fidgeted again, and it was strangely endearing, given how authoritative Astra had seen her before. “Yeah, like I said, I’m real, _real_ sorry about that,” Alex mumbled, and Astra took the final step to put herself mere inches from her so nothing but the bars separated them.

“You should be,” Astra said, an underlying purr making Alex pause in her fidgeting. “Trust me, if you and I _had_ been together last night, you would remember every. Single. Second of it. No matter _how_ much you’d had to drink.”

Alex’s face was reddening again, and her eyes darted back and forth between Astra’s. “What’re you do—“

Astra reached through the bars, cupping the back of Alex’s neck, and pulling her in, pressing her lips to hers. Alex went stiff for only a second before she started kissing back, her own hands reaching through the bars, finding Astra’s hips, and pulling them forward.

Astra hummed at the feeling, heat curling low in her when Alex deepened the kiss, fingers now clutching at her waist with bruising force. 

Astra was fairly certain she could actually fall into this, forget herself, let lust take over for just a moment…but at the same time, she had absolutely no ambitions to stay in this cell forever. She pressed harder into the kiss, moaning, keeping Alex distracted—that was the reason for the moan, it was for distraction, it of _course_ wasn’t because Alex was kissing her breathless—and drifting her hand down lower, and lower, and then off to the side a little, fingers _just_ brushing the collection of jagged pieces of metal she was looking for.

Alex clamped her hand over Astra’s wrist, jerking abruptly out of the kiss as she realized exactly where Astra’s had had been advancing toward. Not her hips, not her ass, not anywhere else, except the keys looped at her belt.

“Nice try,” she said coolly. She held up Astra’’s wrist, gripping it hard, possessive. “Was this how you got out of your other cell?”

Astra leaned her head against the cell bar in frustration, but found she was still biting her lip where Alex’s mouth had been, like she was trying to hold that feeling there with her teeth.

“My escaping the other cell involved significantly more maiming,” she countered, that purr still rumbling softly under her words. _“This_ was just some optimistic fun.”

Alex looked a little ruffled. 

“I’ll still make it out of here, Deputy Sheriff Alex Danvers,” Astra said, “but allow _that_ to serve as my preemptive apology for what I’m going to do to your town when I finally do escape.”

Alex let go of her wrist, and took a step backward. “You’ll have to apologize a hell of a lot harder than _that,_ Miss In-Ze,” she growled. “If you think for a second I’m gonna let _anything_ happen to this town, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“We’ll see,” Astra said, watching contentedly as Alex turned on her heel, and bit her lip again.

*

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…or, back at Alex’s real apartment in National City where Astra still hadn’t managed to beat this irksome solitary card game, Astra quickly shut her thoughts off.

Because after that part of the dream, there had been a series of absolutely nonsensical time lapses, and happenstances, including her escape from her cell through a magic portal that led directly to Alex’s house.

At which point, Astra refused to mull this dream over any further, because while the beginning of her dream had consisted of her mostly straddling her horse’s back, the second half of her dream had consisted mostly of her straddling Alex’s hips.

Which was irrelevant, really, to the more important plot in which Non betrayed her and revealed himself to be the real villain of the story, and there was a shoot-out, and a lot more of Alex’s mouth and body following the shoot-out.

And really, Astra’s dream hadn’t really succeeded in capturing those iconic Spaghetti Western outlaw drawls. Save for maybe the man whose hat she’d shot off in the very beginning, but he’d disappeared before he even had the chance to play any major role in things.

And this past imprisonment thing...and the robbery...what on Earth was that all about? Petty criminal behavior? Or had there been something more noble about it? A steal from the rich, give to the poor type of thing? Or was that too hopeful?

And what about the red and blue girl, the White Hat, who could only have been Kara? Did Alex ever mend her relationship with her sister? Did she ever see this Mon-El person around her again, and if she did, was she able to make good on her threat to remove his genitals?

 _These_ were the important parts of the dream. Certainly not the parts where she had panted and gasped as Alex, flat on her back beneath her on the bed, gripped Astra’s hips and guided them so she was grinding down hard and fast against her. Certainly not the parts where Astra had pinned her down and was nipping at that perfectly angled jaw. And absolutely not the part where Alex was able to find her missing handcuffs and put them to very efficient use.

Those things were not important, and for Rao’s sake, Astra _still_ hadn’t beaten the loathsome solitaire game. 

She and Alex were going to have a very serious discussion when she got home about what qualified as good ways of occupying an irritable Kryptonian’s time when she was locked away in her apartment.


	4. Day 4: Arranged Marriage AU

It took her a moment of recovery from thinking about her dream of the Wild Wild West before she was able to convince herself to at least _try_ one more round of solitaire. This was perhaps more of a mental block on her part, one that needed to be worked out by continuing to try the same thing over and over again until she either won, or lost her mind.

She hesitated, however, as she remembered the dream that followed the ridiculous, raucous ride of the other. That hesitation gave way to a deep frown.

Perhaps she had been wrong before in saying that her dream about Winn’s silly show was her least favorite of the seven dreams. Perhaps this next one was. Perhaps not because of the dream itself, but because of the way she felt once it was over. 

This one ached.

*

Astra had absolutely no interest in possessing—nor _being_ possessed—by her very own human.

(“It’s not _possession,_ Astra,” her mother had chided, “it’s just marriage”).

Semantics, Astra thought bitterly.

She looked at herself in the mirror, eyes focusing on the white streak in her hair. The one that was here because of the human she was about to marry. 

She tilted her head, trying to see that from different angles. She’d had it since she was eleven, it had never changed, and yet all of a sudden, for the first time in years, she wondered what it looked like to others. 

Oh, when she had first gotten it, she was, of course, incredibly self-conscious about it. And people noticed. And people talked. And people laughed, or took too much pity.

But when she was sixteen and the Krypt Riots had taken place, and humans were finally regarded as something to be wary of rather than just a pest, people no longer laughed at her, no longer took pity. They praised her as a survivor, to have lived through a human attack so vicious when she was so young.

“Was it Kryptonite?” some of her more blunt comrades had asked her when they were all too young and too ill-informed to know for certain. “What kind?”

Gold, as it happened. Gold Kryptonite. And she wasn’t the only one affected by it, she was simply the first. 

Earth had welcomed the half-million Krypton refugees three years before the appearance of the white streak, only very hesitantly. It was a trial period for the Kryptonians after all, and Earth was required by the United Systems to take in their allotted share of refugees per year—particularly those from high-risk planets.

Well, Krypton was certainly high-risk. With its ecosystem almost completely destroyed, there seemed to be no hope of saving it. It would simply whither and die, unable to provide for its growing population.

So, half of that population had agreed to leave Krypton, with the expectation that those left behind would nurture it and rebuild as much as they could to prepare for their hopeful return. The refugees had then been dispersed to several temporary safe planets—Astra and her family had been assigned to Earth.

Assimilation was always difficult for any planet, and any person for that matter. Especially considering that Earth was only _just_ coming back from its own ecological collapse, so adding a half million aliens to its population seemed…a little dicey. Many argued that Earth wasn’t stable enough yet to provide a true safe place for refugees, but times were desperate, and ultimately, the United Systems deemed them fit. 

That was before anyone had any idea what a yellow sun would do to a Kryptonian’s body, the powers they would acquire, the godlike abilities. Still, even when that revealed itself, both humans and Kryptonians played at equality, smiled too wide through clenched teeth and fear.

If the first year there was somewhat rocky between Kryptonians and humans, and the second year tenuous, the third was outwardly contentious, and threatened to become destructive.

Still, the younger Kryptonians had made human friends. Astra, in fact, made a true friend, one she loved even more than her sister, one who didn’t seem to care that she had super speed, or super strength, or anything else. The human called Alex Danvers seemed to honestly believe that one day, she could simply _achieve_ these powers. It was an innocent belief—not one born out of jealousy, but simply wanting to match Astra pace for pace, because it was more fun that way. They’d get to do more together that way.

But while their friendship grew, radicals from both the human side and the Kryptonian side seemed determined to destroy everything the United Systems was hoping to achieve.

At first, the Kryptonians regarded the humans’ threats of deportation as posturing. Laughable. Embarrassing. What exactly did they expect to be able to _do_ to the Kryptonians? The strongest among them wouldn’t be able to make them budge even an _inch_ if they pushed against them.

But then the humans discovered Kryptonite. That glowing green became feared, led to riots, to violence, very nearly to war, until the United Systems finally had to step in. The humans tried to make a case for keeping some on hand to protect themselves, but the United Systems relinquished them of even the smallest bit.

But they hadn’t known about the different _kinds_ of Kryptonite, the ones that had gone through different mutations in their fall to Earth. They hadn’t known, the way human scientists knew, of the kind known as Gold Kryptonite—the kind that would strip Kryptonians of their power forever. They would be reduced to human weakness, without the pity or support from humans themselves, without the understanding of their own people. Not quite one, nor the other. 

And the Gold Kryptonite looked so very much like gold ore from Earth, that no one thought twice when they saw it. Only a very select few humans knew about it, and of course, as these things go, those select few happened to be the radicals. 

Where human/Kryptonian friendships between adults were a rarity, there were several human/Kryptonian friendships amongst the children. In the wake of the discovery of Green Kryptonite, many Kryptonian parents had seen fit to keep their children away from humans. 

Astra’s parents were of that mind.

But Astra, who had never had a friend like Alex, couldn’t imagine going so much as a _day_ without seeing her, let alone a lifetime, and continued to sneak out of the refugee compound so they could play together. Some of the other children did the same. It didn’t go unnoticed by the human radicals. 

Children.

Children were the easiest way to get the Gold Kryptonite into the Kryptonian compound. The girl children especially, with all their tokens that they shared with their Kryptonian friends—jewelry being the most useful. 

One hundred and fifty Kryptonian children remained friends with human children. One hundred and fifty human children were unknowingly given Gold Kryptonite. One hundred and fifty Kryptonian children lost their powers forever in one night. One hundred and fifty of their parents did, too. 

It was deemed a terrorist attack by the United Systems, who had once again to step in to prevent a full scale war. Aliens from various planets came in to comb the Earth for traces of any and all kind of Kryptonite, seizing everything they found to be kept at the Systems Headquarters. While the humans cried with outrage that this left them defenseless, the Kryptonians’ outrage far overshadowed them. _Children,_ they had cried. The humans had used _children._

On top of it all, it was obvious which of the Kryptonian children, and which of their parents, had come into contact with the Gold. Kryptonians had developed what was near on physical and genetic perfection with the help of the Codex on Krypton, and on Earth, that near-perfection was only enhanced under the rays of the yellow sun. There was hardly a flaw to be seen.

Those affected by the Gold Kryptonite, however, all bore a mark, each one different. No one could identify what it was about the radioactive compound that had created an individual flaw or mutation for each person, but then again, no one was allowed to study it once it had been seized. But it was very clear who had fallen victim to the attack. Some sported discolored skin, others dual-colored eyes…Astra, of course, sported the white streak through her hair that there was no getting rid of, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard her parents tried.

“You could have tracked it into the compound like the others!” her parents cried at her. “It could have affected us—it could have affected your _sister—“_

And Alura had gripped her hand hard, trying to protect her from their parents’ words. Their first child by a matter of seconds, she was the perfect one in their eyes, not the aberration to an otherwise perfect system, not the regressive twin, like Astra. Their blame would have been placed on Astra in one way or another.

But Alura had turned her head to her and said earnestly, “I’ll dye a streak of my hair, too, Astra, that way we can both still look the same, and no one will say anything…”

Their parents had forbidden it, of course, but it was far from the worst of what they did. It was her mother who glided toward her, wrapping the streak of white around her finger. “Now you see the foolishness in befriending a human,” she murmured icily. 

“She didn’t give me the Gold ring on _purpose_ , we were just playing,” Astra had cried.

“Are you so sure of that?”

And with those few words, Astra _wasn’t_ sure anymore. That deep friendship she’d formed with Alex was dashed just like that at her mother’s cold words, at the nearly five hundred Kryptonians, children and parents, who had suffered the attack. 

Once again, war threatened between the humans and the Kryptonians, and once again, the United Systems stepped in. So long as there was this separation, they said, so long as the Kryptonians were made to live in compounds away from humans, there could be no negotiations, there could be no peace. If their species were to coexist, they needed to co-mingle, bonds that went beyond political oaths needed to be formed, bonds such as family. 

Marriage.

No fully-powered Kryptonian would agree to such an idea for fear of human cruelty, nor would any human for fear of their lives. 

But there was that middle ground. The children called the Golden Kryptonians—Kryptonian by blood, human by strength. Or lack there of. The name was so misleading. To humans, gold was good. But here, it was simply something to pity, and even the use of the word “Golden” felt like a cruel jab, like someone was laughing.

But the Golden Kryptonians and their human childhood friends held the key, the United Systems believed. A marriage between each human who had given the Gold Kryptonite, and each Kryptonian child who had received it.

It would encourage bonds, it would encourage healing, it would encourage a future.

That was what the United Systems thought, anyway.

Looking at herself in the mirror now, that white streak, knowing she was going to be reunited with Alex Danvers after over ten years— _married to her—_ the childhood friend who had taken her strength, her dignity, her life away from her…Astra almost laughed at the stupidity of it all. This would heal nothing, this would forge no bonds. 

Astra left the compound and entered the bordering human town that day in a wedding dress, a hairdo meant to fully display her white streak, and the determination to hate the very ground that Alexandra Danvers walked on.

*

It wasn’t the wine.

It wasn’t the wine, but it’s what she said was the wine in order to excuse herself from the table as both her parents, and Alex’s parents, began giving stiff, icy toasts to Alex and Astra’s joint futures, and to the future of the Earth.

It wasn’t the wine.

It was Alex. It was Alex and the fact that this was an actual ceremony, performed in front of people, filmed so that both humans and Kryptonians on both sides of the border could witness the birth this “Future” everyone kept mentioning. And in this actual ceremony, she had been in front of hundreds of people within her physical sphere, and Alex had been there, had stood beside her, had waited in the wings of this outdoor temple in preparation that was meant to somehow include the religions of all, no matter the country, or the planet.

It sounded nice in theory, but in actuality, it only caused hackles to raise on every side.

Not that that mattered to Astra right now. Raised hackles she could handle. If she had to fight every single one of these guests, whether human, or full-powered Kryptonian in order to maintain some sense of peace, then she would, and she could. 

But she hadn’t been prepared for Alex. As much as she had told herself she would be, she was just…so sadly, horribly mistaken.

Because there was her best friend, the truest she had ever known, both before the Golden Attacks and after—if only by memory—and just…here she was. Standing in the wings of that temple, grown up now. Grown into an adult woman, and yet, had she not known, Astra still could have picked her out from a mile away as the eleven year old girl she had used to play with.

Harder, though. Alex had always been a little serious, aside from the time she spent with Astra alone. This was a different kind of seriousness, though. It was a trained one, cultivated as if it were some sort of ideal trait that needed to be kept sharp at all times.

Sharp. Sharp was the word. She was still narrow-framed as she had ever been as a child, but now that narrowness was stronger. Lean muscle had taken the place of that lanky prepubescent skin-and-bones look, leaving her trim, but the kind of trim that made Astra think of a knife, rather than something flimsy like the ridiculous doilies the humans had decided to decorate the reception tables with.

Then again, Alex had always been a knife. Had always pierced through her, gotten under her skin in a way that even her sister never could. 

(And somewhere in the back of her mind, Astra felt the piercing of that knife, almost as if it was from another lifetime—not a knife, a bigger blade, but still just as sharp and slim, still just as deadly, just as beautiful…somewhere, so long as they were talking about the Future, or the Past…there was something about that sharp edge about Alex that Astra couldn’t quite put her finger on).

But that hardly mattered. Past, Future, Another Life—what mattered was Alex, now, standing before her, fidgeting, unsure if eye contact was allowed, or if it would cause the entire world around them to crumble.

Astra hated to think that _she_ might be fidgeting in such a way, so she stared straight ahead, and pretended that Alex—that her soon-to-be _wife_ —wasn’t even there.

That was harder to do when they were on what was a veritable outdoor stage before a large audience—and an all-purpose cleric—and were required to face one another, to hold hands, and finally, after many vows—and legal obligations—were pronounced, and instructed to kiss.

And all of _that_ was the reason why, at the reception afterwards, Astra had claimed a frailness when it came to alcohol, and excused herself, blaming it on the half-sip of wine she had consumed thus far.

Finally away from the prying eyes and prying cameras of the curious citizens who were wondering if these arranged Golden Kryptonian/Golden Human marriages might actually work, she slipped behind the back of the temple, leaning back and letting the back of her head thump back against the wall.

She exhaled shakily as she remembered taking Alex’s hands in hers before the cleric and the host of hundreds. Both of theirs were cold and clammy—a relief, really, that it was _both_ of them, not just one. It elicited a startling feeling of solidarity, and Astra had squeezed Alex’s hands reflexively, and Alex’s eyes had shot to hers in surprise.

Those eyes. Endlessly dark, the shape of them peculiar, but in the most striking of ways. Hands, then eyes…

Then there was the kiss. This part was more mandatory than the others, apparently. It wasn’t as if the people at large actually believed that any more than one or two of these weddings were based off of real love, but the kiss was expected. The sight of it naturally brought out warm feelings in the eyes of onlookers, and the sealing of lips seemed to signal the sealing of a pact, the sealing of a chance at peace. 

And Astra, who had kissed all of one other person in her life, the son of a longtime family acquaintance called Non…she was woefully unprepared for what a kiss _actually_ felt like.

It didn’t last long, and was almost completely chaste given the company they were in…but after nearly two hours now, Astra could still feel it. The way Alex had leaned in first, then hesitated, and Astra had immediately recalled those few times in their childhood when Alex would try to do something she knew that physically, only Astra would be able to get away unscathed from. But Astra would always encourage her all those times—if it was something involving some great height, she would always promise to catch her, no matter what.

And Alex’s hesitance here, that fear that she might not get away unscathed…Astra had leaned in to meet her, to catch her if she fell.

The first brush of parted lips nearly made Astra jolt her head back. The lightness of the touch was strange—it didn’t feel exactly like receiving an electric shock, but it had all the surprise, and all the intensity of one. 

But she had stopped herself from jolting back completely, because the electric shock that wasn’t an electric shock wasn’t painful. And maybe there really _was_ something electrical about it, because there seemed to be this magnetism…the first brush of lips that made them both stiffen a little in surprise must have caused some kind of current, because rather than sparking away from each other, they drew each other in, and it _did_ feel like they were sealing something, only something that belonged just to themselves, rather than this pretense of a Future they were playing out for public morale.

Behind the temple here, alone, Astra raised a hand to her lips, feeling them twitch as if they were still over-sensitized, even to the most chaste of all kisses. Her best friend from childhood, the girl—now woman—who had cursed her into this nameless, society-less _thing_ who was now a political puppet. That accidental moment though, when they both had angled their heads the wrong way and bumped noses awkwardly…how Astra had felt Alex’s lips curve up a little once they met, because that clumsiness really had been a little funny. But oh, how good she had felt—physically, yes, but even more so, just having her back, like she was something she hadn’t known she’d been missing until she’d found it again.

Needless to say, that kiss had somewhat upset her determination to hate Alex the way she deserved to be hated.

She jumped when she heard a rustling in the bushes behind her, immediately dropping her hand from her lips so she didn’t look like a fool, and straightened in surprise when Alex made her way before her—somewhat clumsily as she pulled free of the thorny underbrush barring her way. She tugged her jacket straight to free it of thorns, and tossed her head a little to get her hair out of her eyes, so she could better look at Astra.

Those eyes. Exactly the same as Astra remembered.

“Are you okay?” Alex hazarded, and Astra realized that, apart from the vows they had recited dutifully before the cleric, this was the first Alex had actually said to her in more than ten years.

_Ten years._

_Are you okay?_

Astra pushed herself forward slightly so she wasn’t leaned back against the wall of the temple like some delicate thing—before remembering she was, in fact, supposed to be pretending she was a delicate thing.

“I’m fine,” she answered as delicately as she could. “I think the wine just got to me.”

Alex fixed her with such a _look,_ that Astra felt a guilty blush bloom over her.

“Remember that time I snuck us some of my dad’s home-made Whiskey?” Alex asked with a critical brow, but a smile on her lips. She shook her head. “You practically drained the thing and didn’t feel _any_ of it, I don’t believe for a _second_ that that cheap wine is affecting you.”

Astra stiffened, annoyance needling at her. “Well my drinking prowess was before you gave me a ring made of Golden Kryptonite, stripping me down so that I have all the tolerance for alcohol of a human infant,” she retorted with icy smoothness.

Alex looked startled by her snap for a moment, before lifting her head haughtily. Then dropping it shamefully. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t mean to,” she said softly. 

Astra studied her, watching, rather than reacting, as Alex finally lifted her gaze up to meet hers.

“But you did,” Astra countered, voice just as soft. 

Alex shook her head with sudden vehemence. “No—Astra, I didn’t know,” she insisted. She started to take a step forward, then seemed to think better of it, freezing awkwardly in a half-step. “It was just a toy. That gold ring? It was a toy. It was in my cereal box. I thought it was pretty, I gave it to you…I didn’t know. Astra, I promise I didn’t know. You remember— _I_ remember—how you said you felt ill when it touched you, so I took it off you. I never—Astra, I know I hurt you, but I never wanted to. I loved you…”

Astra flinched at the words, just as surely as Alex flinched at them, breaking off. She gathered herself, looking like she was admitting defeat. “I loved you more than anyone I’d ever met in my life,” she confessed in a murmur. “And I didn’t…I just wanted to give you something. Something I valued. So you’d know it, so you’d know…I just loved you,” she said again with a frustrated sigh.

Astra held her gaze, feeling flushed when Alex held it right back. It was almost a contest between them, and it rang so true to their childhood friendship. Always trying to outdo one another, but always done with care.

Astra tried to form the right words, because it wasn’t quite good enough, Alex’s apology, her guilt…it tugged at Astra, but it just didn’t feel like enough. She still felt hollow. But at the same time, she wanted it to be enough. She wanted Alex’s words to wash away everything, so they could pretend they had spent the rest of their childhood, their adolescence, their crest on adulthood together. Then maybe this day wouldn’t be mandated, it would be a choice, it would have been because of a gold ring that was actually made of Earthly gold and would mean nothing except that they meant to keep each other forever.

But whatever words she had been looking for were interrupted by a swell of a loud public announcement—the wedding and reception may be over, _but where were the brides? Perhaps consummating their relationship already? Perhaps already proving that true love could grow between both Golden beings, that there was a Future, that it was filled with peace…_

Astra was torn between humiliation, and the desire to roll her eyes at the announcement. Alex was too, it seemed. They shared a wrinkled nose, and a grin, and Astra felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected joined moment, sure her face had just turned as red as Alex’s looked.

“Do you think you wanna ditch the bureaucrats and go home?” Alex asked—then blushed deeper at her wording. “Well…home, I mean, my house, but it’s yours now, too, it’s…y’know, it’s small, but it’s pretty nice, you’ll probably like it, maybe, I don’t know…”

“Alex.”

Alex broke off, lifting her gaze to Astra’s again, and Astra tentatively reached her hand out, an offer.

“Going home sounds nice,” she said, and felt a little piece of her break when Alex’s face lit up, and she took her hand.

*

Alex’s house was indeed small by human standards—still, it was a two-bedroom, with a bathroom, and a kitchen, an island counter to serve as a dining table, and a room which housed the television.

Astra couldn’t help but scowl a little at the television, not sure where that sense of loathing came from, but feeling it strongly anyway.

It made Alex grin, and Astra became aware of the fact that their hands were still linked, hot, a little sweaty and awkward, but still…comforting. Astra didn’t want to let go, at any rate.

“Why the grin?” she asked Alex.

“Just the way you’re looking at the TV,” Alex laughed. “You never liked that thing when we were growing up. I have a very distinct memory of you throwing a cup at the TV when a show killed off a character you liked, and then stomping off, telling me you never wanted to see me again for making you watch it.”

They both laughed a little at the memory, both smiled, but it was bittersweet when paired with the reality of now, or the reality of the Golden Attack. _Never wanting to see Alex again._

All said and done, Astra wasn’t sure she had it in her to never see Alex again. Shaky and unstable as they were now, Astra still wanted to keep her, wanted to hate her, wanted to love her—more than anything, to love her.

“Well, this is, um,” Alex cleared her throat, letting go of Astra’s hand and gesturing to two rooms on opposite sides of the hallway. “The house is a two bedroom, so there’s two, um…you know, there’s two bedrooms. I didn’t know—I made up the bed in that other one if you want to sleep there, I mean you don’t have to sleep in my room with me, that’s, if you don’t want to—I mean, I know all the male/female Golden pairings are expected to reproduce and all to get that peace ball rolling, but you and I aren’t, so there’s no real reason for us to sleep together—y’know, in the same room or the same bed I mean, because human and Kryptonian physiology, it’s all…y’know we can’t naturally reproduce with the two of us being, y’know, women, so the only point there’d be in sharing a bed or anything would be all about, y’know…” she cleared her throat again. “…Pleasure. Or whatever.” And one more clearing of the throat. “Anyway. So I guess I’ll just see you in the morning…”

“Alex.”

Alex finally looked back at her, looking a little out of breath from that long string of words. Astra felt warmed by the look, that nervousness that spoke of the reuniting of estranged friends, a lingering guilt, and a surprising new feeling that their marriage would allow them to explore.

Astra reached out again, taking her hand, then stepping in close, holding her gaze. “I told you I wanted to come home with you,” she said. She pointed to the bedroom on the left. “Is that home to you?”

Alex nodded, looking alarmed and shy at her sudden closeness. 

“Then that’s where I want to be,” Astra told her.

Alex swallowed nervously, but nodded again, turning and leading the way to her bedroom.

Once inside, Astra felt her resolve, her placidness, begin to crumble, much too aware of the racing of her pulse, the feeling of her heart pounding against her chest, then fluttering up at the base of her throat. She felt her hand twitch involuntarily with the irregular blood flow, and Alex turned to her, having felt it.

“Um. I. Have a set of pajamas in the closet if you want them…” she offered with a stutter.

Astra ignored the offer and stepped into her again, taking in those dark eyes she’d never expected to see again. She lifted her hand up to stroke her thumb over Alex’s cheekbone, and drifted her hand over to tuck Alex’s short hair behind her ear, fingers lingering there.

She hesitated, wondering if she was supposed to ask for permission, but found herself startled into non-movement as Alex lifted her own hand, taking the streak of white in her hair and stroking it and combing it behind her ear, and running her finger through it. Lovingly. Like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Permission given. Permission given, making her heart twist painfully, making her need in a way that hurt. She leaned in, brushing slightly parted lips against Alex’s, even lighter than she had at their wedding. Light as it was, it seemed to create even stronger of an electrical current and when their lips met fully this time, there was a slow fierceness to it that coaxed embers to burning deep in Astra’s core. She dared to run her tongue along the seam of Alex’s lips, wanting inside, wanting to claim her in the most gentle way possible.

When Alex opened for her and met Astra’s tongue with her own, they both sighed into it, as if with relief—and that sigh seemed to signal a shift in both of them.

Astra pressed in harder, one hand sliding over Alex’s shoulder and dragging her fingers up, the other hand threading back into her hair, pulling a little when Alex’s fingers gripped and dragged across her lower back. Their momentum remained slow, but heavier with each second, Astra having to adjust her breathing as their kisses became deeper and longer.

She was the first to break the silence—a defeat that might have been humiliating if she had been able to think of anything besides Alex’s mouth on hers, and the hands that were wondering down and around. She moaned needily, breaking off with a surprised utterance when Alex caught her lower lip between her teeth and tugged softly, letting it go after a small second.

The playfulness of it caught Astra off guard, and it took her a second before she breathed out a laugh, honestly glad for a moment to catch her breath. She pushed Alex back a bit so that the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, spilling her backward onto it. Astra followed after her, getting her knees on either side of her hips, pausing to reach down and run her thumb over her cheekbones again.

She leaned down and took Alex’s earlobe between her teeth, letting it go so she could whisper in her ear, “You are so beautiful, Alex.”

She felt Alex’s body flex beneath her, felt hands come up to grip her thighs, and knew how much Alex wanted to roll her over and pin her down. Get the best of her, the way she had always tried to as a child, always trying to prove that a human could be just as strong as a Kryptonian, that they were so much the same in so many ways.

But Alex didn’t try to roll her over this time, didn’t try to win. She let Astra take control of her, let her take her however she wanted—Astra was so grateful for the surrender she felt something deep in her chest clench.

Because this wasn’t a contest. This was an _I’m sorry,_ and an _I missed you,_ and a promise never to leave each other again.

*

Astra stared at the card in her hand for a long time without really registering what it was. It was just colors, blurred, unfocused, as if it was far away, or maybe _she_ was far away. 

After what could have been hours but was likely only seconds, she placed the card down, uninterested in its existence. She wanted to leave this game, wanted to do something else, anything else, but all she could do was stare straight ahead, feeling a hollowness she didn’t remember having had before.


	5. Day 5: Canon Divergent AU

Astra hadn’t been able to go back to sleep for a long time after that last dream. She had lain awake that night, staring up at the ceiling from her place on Alex’s couch, finding the beating of her heart too hard, too panicked—and panicked for what? Compared to the others, that most recent one had been the closest to what one might actually consider to be a sweet dream. But it was also the one that had woken her into a blurred, strangely melancholic haze, and there was something there, some sort of sickness in her gut. 

She had tried to focus her senses as she awoke, focus them the way she had always had to for years of service in the Kryptonian Military, for years on Fort Rozz, for years hiding out here on Earth, trying to quiet waves of panic that would eat at her during the night.

This was a different kind of panic, though. Not one that had her fearing for her life, nor for the life of others, nor even for the loss of something she had been too late to save, but one that brought her back to the first mission she had ever been on when she was still a teenager—that feeling of dread that came from being faced with a staggering unknown.

She had forced herself to close her eyes against the panic of that dream, forced herself to breathe normally, trying to grasp some level of stability, a sound, a feeling, something dependable.

A heartbeat. 

One slow, content, steady from sleep. 

Alex’s. 

Astra had listened to its comforting pattern coming from the room next to hers, let herself be soothed by the evenness of it, let herself believe if she focused enough, she might be able to match its steady rhythm exactly with her own. And after several moments, it did. But there came an unexpected pain from it.

Astra had lifted her fingers to her chest, running them lightly over the long, raised, red scar over her heart—her heart, whose rhythm was matching that of the woman in the next room, the one who had given that scar to her in the first place.

She knew that neither she nor Alex had healed from that scar fully yet. Perhaps it was why Alex had offered to be the one to house her while J’onn negotiated with President Marsdin. Perhaps it was why, more than that, Alex had elected herself Astra’s guardian, her sole protector. Like she had a point to prove.

No, not that.

_That_ was what Astra had _assumed_ this was all about in the beginning, all Alex’s volunteering on her behalf, her charity. Surely Alex simply wanted to prove to Kara that she meant her aunt no harm, that she could be trusted. And Astra had tried to help with her cause, trying to ease her burden, ease the tension she feared she had placed on the sisters’ relationship. The memory of having broken ties with her own sister still gnawed at her, and she couldn’t stomach the idea that she might have caused even the smallest spark of resentment between her niece and Alexandra. So every time Kara came to visit, Astra praised Alex as being an excellent host, as being courteous to a fault—and perhaps that had been over-the-top, because Kara’s eyebrows always raised in confusion, always happy to hear it, but wary of it, its overstated conviction.

Astra was never trying to overstate it—she hoped it didn’t sound false, or secretly scathing. She had never lost respect for Alex, never hated her—the human had done her duty as a soldier, and as a friend, when she had protected her superior officer and slid that sword between her shoulder blades and all the way through the chest. It was to be expected.

Still, Astra’s survival of the blow seemed a freak accident—almost in the same way that her birth had been, in the same way her survival of Fort Rozz, of the Phantom Zone, of the crash into the Earth had been. She was a twin, the product of a glitch in the Codex, never having been meant to exist at all. And life constantly seemed either to be trying to fix that mistake by killing her off, or perhaps trying multiple times to give her a second chance at that flawed existence, to make it her own, rather than something seen only as a copy, and a twisted one at that. Everything about her life, from birth up until now, had just been a series of freak accidents she never should have been around to encounter in the first place.

Not to say that she wasn’t grateful for her survival from this particular wound. Only that it puzzled her, and that it had puzzled her even more when she had awoken from whatever desperate, life-saving surgery Kara had rushed her to at the DEO, to find that it was Alex’s face hovering over her, the first to swim into view.

It was only there for a second, quickly turning away, disappearing to fetch Kara, but why had it even been there in the first place? Perhaps Alex had assisted with the surgery—but when Astra asked about it, Kara had told her that, no, Alex hadn’t even made it back to the DEO until after it had finished.

“So then she was checking my vitals,” Astra had guessed.

Kara had shrugged, not seeming to understand why Astra was pushing so hard for an answer. “Sure,” she had agreed, with no real commitment either way on the subject.

The DEO became her new home from then on—her new prison, and her new safe haven. And Non’s eventual defeat, Myriad’s destruction…there were memories that ached from it, but it was like the ache from an old war wound, nothing debilitating, nothing she was even aware of for most of the time…but still something that would flare up subtly every now and again.

In truth though, she was glad for this release from the Myriad crusade, and with the information she had given the DEO and the US Military—information that had been paramount to their victory over the Fort Rozz army—Kara had made a case for her exoneration, or at the very least, a probationary release into her custody.

J’onn had warned that the President might take more consideration of their case if Astra was housed by a human instead, that that might show a commitment to coexisting peacefully with the people of Earth, rather than continuing only to live with another Kryptonian.

Alex had volunteered to house her immediately. So immediately, it had startled the both of them.

And for a long time, it seemed as though Astra was right, that Alex was just trying to prove her trustworthiness to Kara, her love, her commitment to embracing Astra as part of the family, strained as it may be. But Alex’s gaze lingered on Astra sometimes. Sometimes there were small touches, hardly noticeable, brushes of fingers against hers if she handed over a plate, or a glass, things that almost seemed clumsy.

But Alexandra Danvers wasn’t clumsy, Astra knew that for certain. The lingering gazes, the casual touch—those weren’t results of clumsiness, nor did they even seem necessarily affectionate. Alex simply seemed to need to reaffirm, almost every time they were in the same room together, that Astra was indeed alive, here, solid. These moments were private between them, there was no Kara to impress.

Astra took to returning her gazes, encouraging simple touch, trying to assure her that it was okay, that she _was_ here, that Alex hadn’t done anything wrong. The human woman’s guilt seemed endlessly deeper even than Astra’s fear of having been so close to dying. And let it be made clear, Astra had never considered herself particularly afraid of an early death, not so long as there was cause behind it. But the feeling of Kryptonite was different. The memory of it inside her had haunted her for weeks, months following, would likely continue to haunt her on and off again for the rest of her life. It was a particular pain that promised no sense of peace, no sense of release. Where weaker people would have pleaded for death as a respite from that pain, there was something about Kryptonite that made Astra feel such terror that even death wouldn’t be able to spare her that pain, that somehow, it would continue, long past her final breath.

Still, the horror of that pain seemed to pale in comparison to the guilt in Alex’s eyes every time she looked at her.

Alex drank. Drank more than a human should, that much was clear to Astra. Every night when she came home, no matter how late, how early, how beaten up, or how dizzy over analyzing new alien physiologies…she always made straight for the hard liquor, and Astra was never sure what to do. She knew it made Alex sick. But first, it made her loosen up. It sometimes made her giddy, or chatty. Once, it had even made her get up and put on absolutely appalling music to flail around to.

Astra may have allowed herself to be dragged up from the couch by Alex, may have made a pale attempt at mirroring Alex’s ridiculous flailing—simply to give some sense of solidarity. Because this wasn’t happy flailing—not happy in the real sense. This was a safe happy that only existed because her consumption of this poison allowed her to trick herself into believing nothing _un_ happy existed.

After which, of course, whatever was the chosen drink of the evening revealed itself to be the poison that it truly was. Sometimes, the poison was purely physical. It caused Alex to become unsteady, disoriented, made her vomit, made her feel wretched the entire following day. Other times—much less frequent—it poisoned her emotions—made her angry, or made her crumble, made her cry. And that crying could be attributed to so many things. _So_ many things, both recent, and from over a decade ago. 

Astra tried to give her privacy for these moments, knowing Alex well enough at this point to know that she was proud, that she wouldn’t want to be seen or heard having any kind of a breakdown. She valued self control so highly—the first time Alex had caught Astra being aware of one of those breakdowns, she had seemed to force ragged sobriety upon herself, and wouldn’t look at Astra for almost a week straight.

Eventually, she came around again, and seemed to be in better spirits, but Astra still took note of the contents of those bottles of poison on the counter. They were always lower each morning, significantly so.

And Astra wondered about that guilt that Alex had, wondered where it came from. She was predisposed to it already if her relationship with her mother regarding Kara was anything to go by. But this particular guilt, this guilt from nearly killing Astra…it seemed so obsessive. That constant need to reaffirm that she was alive, that constant need Astra had to reassure her she was…for the first few weeks, the tension between them every time they were in the same room together had been like a time bomb waiting to off.

Eventually, it leveled somewhat, and the two of them were able to reach a kind of quiet comfort around each other. They weren’t walking on egg shells around each other anymore—even better, they were no longer walking across minefields toward one another. It was still a delicate balance though, one only gradually solidified over the weeks by attempts at humor, tentative sharing of their separate cultures. 

Astra knew, of course, that Kara and Alex must have done much the same when Kara first arrived on Earth. Of course, she laughed, that had to have been different—sharing cultural jokes and food and customs with a fellow child didn’t quite equate to sharing cultural jokes and food and customs with the evil twin of said child’s mother, the evil twin Alex had very nearly killed.

The joke was meant to be lighthearted—and yes, alright, Astra’s version of “light-hearted” had gotten a little heavier and a little darker over the years—but it wasn’t meant to be any sort of dig. Alex seemed to get that on some level, affording her a laugh that Astra could tell had no real heart to it, but then had set her drink down on the coffee table, facing off with Astra levelly.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” she asked, a tiny thorn of anger in her own voice.

“Angry with you for what?”

“You _know_ , for what, Astra. Why aren’t you angry at me for almost killing you?”

Astra had looked at her thoughtfully, not remotely surprised by the question, but still surprised by being asked to explain it. It had seemed obvious to her.

“You asked me to help you only moments before on that rooftop,” Astra told her. “You had no plans to kill me then, you were asking me to join forces with you, to be an ally, to be Kara’s family. You were never trying to kill me, you were trying to protect your superior officer, your friend, a man I believe you’ve found a father figure in. There is no shame in protecting your people.”

Alex had cast her gaze down, looked like she wanted to reach for her drink, looked like she didn’t feel capable of leaning that far over.

“Why are you so guilty for it?” Astra asked her, turning the flip-side of Alex’s question back at her.

Alex looked startled, then looked like she was trying to put several thoughts together at once, and was failing to do an adequate job of it.

“Because when I almost killed you, I almost took a part of Kara’s past away from her,” she said carefully. “Not just her past…her soul _,_ kind of. You were such a huge part of what shaped her, and there was such a stubborn part of her that refused to give up on you…it would have been one thing, if that fight had happened between the two of you. But this felt like…I don’t know, it felt like you were supposed to be hers—either as a family, or as an enemy. What happened to you…it shouldn’t have been me. If I had killed you…I would have taken Kara’s family away from her again, the last of it. I mean, I know Cl—Kal-El is her cousin, but she _grew up_ with _you._ You were a part of Kara, and I feel like…this is going to sound weird, but y’know, you did ask…I feel like if anyone were to kill you, Kara was the only one who had a _right_ to it. Does that make any sense?”

Astra nodded after a moment, because it did, on some level. Blood bonds…Kara was hers, and she was Kara’s.

“But also…” Alex said quietly, and Astra tilted her head, not expecting a second part to this. Alex chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, then gave a tight shrug. “It’s like you said…I didn’t want to kill you, Astra,” she said. “When Kara was under the Black Mercy, you came to _me_ to help _—_ you trusted me. And it felt like you knew me. You loved—you _love—_ Kara, probably as much as I do, and you prioritized her above your whole Myriad thing. You were just this… _person._ This really strong, surprisingly loving _person,_ and I felt like I was actually seeing _you,_ the you Kara told me about, and I…I wanted you to be on our side. So when I almost killed you—when I _thought_ I had killed you—this person I wanted to help us, to be with us…I don’t know, it was weird, I kind of just…felt like I missed you, like I’d missed _out_ on you.”

She had gone immediately for her glass after that, taking a quick gulp, and then quickly changing the topic.

And Astra had always respected her as a soldier, she could even have admitted to feeling a strange fondness for her every time they had seen each other as enemies—she was braver and smarter than most of her race, fun to toy with in a way. And in their brief joint effort to save Kara, she learned that Alex had a good heart, as well.

But this, what Alex had just said about missing her, even in the most distant of ways, it gnawed at Astra. Because this, between them, this wasn’t just about Kara anymore. It was about Alex, and it was about Astra, and it was about Alex and Astra together.

The confession had rattled both of them, and to try to make things sturdy again, they both made an unspoken decision not to bring it up. Alex even overcompensated by stopping her lingering gazes and lingering brushes of physical contact, seemingly trying to prove that she was no longer slave to her guilt by no longer doing those things Astra had come to find endearing—no touching, no looking longer than was appropriate.

Astra didn’t like it, but she respected it, and over the past couple of weeks, they had gone back to being able to speak to one another without the overstated politeness that bordered on robotic, had shared food again, had laughed with and at each other occasionally.

But then, of course…the television.

Astra wanted to blame her tossing and turning and mulling over all this on a dream, but of course, it wasn’t a dream. That was all real, and something about that reality mixing with the melodramatic intensity of all these dreams had kept her awake for hours thinking. Thinking until she thought she might drive herself insane.

Astra sat back on the couch now, mulling over what she had mulled over mulling over last night, and looked out the window at the cityscape. It was darkening slowly outside—Alex would  be home from work soon, and Astra would have to put all this mulling aside, lock it up somewhere secret, and forget it existed.

Well, maybe not _forget._

Not _all_ the time.

And not yet, at any rate. Her dreams from last night hadn’t ended there, after all—after hours of fitful, obsessive thinking, listening to Alex’s heartbeat from the room next door had finally lulled her back to sleep. And she was grateful—for once, so utterly grateful—that the dream her reclaimed sleep had dragged her into was an absurd one. Because at this point, when solid rationality no longer seemed to be holding onto her as tightly as it used to, it could be that absurdity—rationality’s idiot, unpredictable brother—might, on such a whim, decide to keep her from falling, just for kicks.

It was better than nothing.

Anything was better than falling.


	6. Day 6: Crime AU

Astra was falling. 

Well, it had started as a dive—an _intentional_ dive—off the roof of Lord Industries to escape the handful of heavily armed men who seemed to have a problem with her attempting to break into the building via its beautiful, but ultimately impractical skylights. 

The dive was executed flawlessly. Astra was fearless when it came to heights—the rigs she put together made it easy for her to dive off buildings, climb up them, leap sideways from one to another…with her expertise, and her fearlessness, she could practically fly.

But someone must have managed to get a hold of her rigging, and what had started as a controlled dive meant to take her to a series of wire hookups several stories below, had now become a free fall straight toward the concrete.

Which wasn’t to say that Astra was doomed, it was simply to say that she was irked. While she trusted her rigs implicitly (they were _hers_ after all, who else _would_ she trust), she knew there was nothing quite so easy to happen in the world as an accident, and while that accident would never be hers—never when it came to _this,_ anyway—there were all manner of other sources these accidents could come from.

So she angled her body as it shot through the air—impossible for some, particularly at this speed. But Astra was never unprepared. For anything. She spread her arms and legs wide, gaining the split second she needed, then whipped her left hand through the wall-like pressure of air shooting past her on all sides, and hit the switch on the inside of her right wrist.

The switch triggered a release in the skin of her suit, a thin, sail-like layer that flowed out at her sides, a webbing to slow her down so that when she did hit the ground, it was with a _whoompf,_ a _crash,_ several complaining joints, and palms skinned raw with the force of her landing—all of which was infinitely better than hitting the ground with a _whoompf,_ and a _crash,_ and then nothing else.

Allowing herself a moment to catch her breath, she glanced up the side of the building. It was dark, but she could still make out several security cameras coming from the outside every couple of floors. She sighed, frustratedly. _Now,_ she had to break back in again, not just to kill Max Lord, but to grab the footage from those security cameras so she could find out _who_ specifically had destroyed her rigging, hunt them down, and kill _them,_ too.

For now though, she rose somewhat shakily to her feet. Perhaps a small break from flying would be wise.

*

A small break consisted of exactly eight hours. Back at the abandoned former prison on Sapphire Island she had made her home, she let herself sleep for just that amount of time, then woke up and immediately started scanning her internet sources for more info on the Lord Industry buildings. She hated the thought of having to come up from _under_ the the building in order to get in, but if that was what would allow her access…

She paused, coming across an article. Small, a tiny blurb—a masquerade gala being held next week at Lord Industries. The reason stated was to raise money for an orphan charity—Astra almost laughed at the idea of Max Lord actually donating to a charity. It of course would seem believable to the typical civilian, but Astra was no typical civilian. A former general cast out of her outfit, she had learned almost a year back that this man was no philanthropist.

Well, it looked like Astra had a week to find a dress and a mask at least, and to find some way of making said dress conceal a remote wiring mechanism, a gun, and two knives.

The idea of dress-shopping annoyed her, so she went to the poor man’s gym she had made for herself, and rigged herself up to fly.

*

It ended up that the dress she chose was fairly adequate when it came to concealing her weapons, rigging, and wires—it did a poor job, however, of concealing her rather permanent display of cuts and bruises across her body. At this point in the game, it was too late to procure a more conservative look—she had already altered this dress perfectly to conceal her host of very particular accoutrement, so this would have to do.

She would simply have to pray for dim lighting, or at least guests who would be absorbed enough in themselves, or in their drinks, or in their gossip, to pay any attention.

She glanced in the mirror and couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the practicality she had been able to pull off using a dress like this. It didn’t exactly scream “subtle.” She blamed false advertising on the part of the company she had ordered from for that. “Sleek and discreet.” Well, the sleekness it had right, anyway. The mirror-like covering that was supposed to make it shimmer and reflect the colors around it, mostly shimmered, and only milldly reflected.

Well. No time to change things now, she supposed. She grabbed her mask and headed out the door.

*

She arrived fashionably late, and was pleased to find that there were plenty of other women there wearing shinier and even more revealing dresses than she had—in theory, they should keep other eyes occupied, while her own searched for every possibility for a quick exit, and every nook and cranny for where Max might be. He was sure to make some grand entrance, and then she would have to find a way to get him isolated…there was a good chance she would have to stay here until the gala finally wound down and emptied some time in the wee hours of the morning if Max planned on mingling with these people the entire time.

And, speak of the devil, there was Max. White tux, stupid-looking gelled hair, and a woman on his arm—not the _last_ woman Astra had seen on his arm only the week before. He went through them rather quickly.

This one had a different look about her—slim, but with surprising definition in her arms and legs that spoke more os something more like field experience, rather than simply a couple hours spent at a high-end gym every other day. Short reddish brown hair was cropped and angled in such a way that accented the sharpness of her jaw in the most flattering of ways. Perhaps it was simply because Astra was too far away, but her eyes had to be infinitely dark, no sign of color coming from behind her mask.

Shame, Astra thought. If she was to take out Max, she would probably have to deal with this woman in some way or another as well. Whether killing her, or silencing her by other means…Astra hated the thought of it, but these things often required collateral damage. There wasn’t a kinder way to put it.

She watched the two of them like a hawk, hoping they would separate, hoping she would be able to find a chance to get this all done without having to take the woman down as well. The more Astra looked at her, the more stunning she seemed to become. The two of them weren’t dancing, the woman seemed to just be holding onto his arm as he went around and mingled with various guests. Astra thought she could detect something like excruciating boredom coming from her, but it was a particular sub-breed of boredom.

Astra had seen many an arm candy woman become bored at functions like this as they realized they truly _were_ nothing but arm candy. This woman was a little different. It took Astra a moment to figure out what it was, before she realized it was because the woman was still engaging in conversation with these guests. Most arm candy women might get a word or two in every so often, but mostly they remained silent and uninterested.

This woman seemed to actively engage in every conversation, but her body language suggested there was likely a jab at each of these people she was speaking to. It wasn’t _aggressive,_ per se, but perhaps defensive, a little annoyed—extremely annoyed—like she refused to simply _be ignored,_ that “arm candy” was not her chosen role, nor would it ever be.

Fascinating. Arm candy who refused to be arm candy. Astra couldn’t help but feel a little warm toward her, and determined that she would do everything in her power to make sure this woman didn’t end up as “collateral damage.” This one had a spark of life in her that Astra didn’t want to see ended.

So fixated on her, she hardly realized it until the woman was directly in front of her, that the woman had actually come toward her at all. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed the approach, but she had, and all of a sudden she was right before her, small smile on her lips, a critical glint in her eye.

Astra had been right. Those eyes were wildly dark underneath that mask.

“Are you going to dance with me, or what?” the woman asked with an eyebrow that raised just high enough that Astra could see the motion just above her mask. 

“Sorry?” Astra asked, still surprised.

“You’ve been paying more attention to me than Max has, and I’m getting a little bored over there. Do you want to join me, or are you just going to continue watching?”

Astra felt a flush of heat go through her, not quite sure if it was shock, or embarrassment, or anger, at how bluntly this woman had called her out. She glanced quickly over at Max to make sure he was still engaged—he seemed to be, and truly, in all likelihood, he would remain here the entire length of the party. It would still behoove her to keep tabs on him at every second…

But the woman had already taken her wrist, and was pulling her gently toward the dance floor.

Astra was too stunned to do anything but follow stiffly after her, even more stunned when the woman turned around to face her, placing Astra’s hands on her hips, and draping her own arms over Astra’s shoulders.

“I’m Alex,” she said, with that same small smile. She began to sway a little to the music, pulling Astra into the movement, pulling her into the tide.

“Um—Astra,” Astra replied with a kind of stammer she hadn’t given since middle school.

“Astra,” Alex echoed. “That’s pretty.”

“Oh…thank you.” That same stammer. Astra winced inwardly.

“So, Astra,” Alex said conversationally, “you’ve been staring awfully hard at me for the past half hour.”

Astra blinked rapidly in surprise. _Half hour?_

She glanced at the massive, but somehow slick metal clock mounted on the far wall. Oh god, she _had._ A _half hour._ There had been _no_ subtlety, no cleverness, nothing discreet…replaying the last half hour in her mind, yes, in fact, Astra had spent the grand majority of the last half an hour just…watching Alex.

“I was just looking for an opportune moment to come and talk to the man on your arm,” she lied carefully, and Alex’s lips parted, suddenly looking a little embarrassed, like she was afraid she might have misread something. “Not that you didn’t make for a dazzling sideshow while I waited in the mean time.”

That seemed to fix it. Somewhat. Alex’s quasi-embarrassment fell away to reveal a contented smirk, in any case.

“And what exactly were you hoping to discuss with the man previously on my arm?” Alex asked, continuing to sway with her. If Astra had wanted, she could have pulled her hips into hers, making this entirely more intimate. 

But of course, that wasn’t what she was here for, she reminded herself. “Nothing too important really,” she answered vaguely.

“You stared at us for a half hour straight in order to talk to him about ‘nothing important really?’” Alex asked doubtfully.

“Well, like I said, you made for quite the distraction,” Astra covered up smoothly, and the small, but comfortable smile returned to Alex’s lips. “I suppose I could have let well enough alone, but then _you_ happened.”

Not entirely a lie, but perhaps _just_ cheesy enough to come off as a tease, one that Alex seemed to fall for. “Huh. Charmer,” she said thoughtfully, the corner of her mouth still twitching upward. “You don’t mind that I came over, do you?” she asked as a follow-up. “You just kinda looked like you wanted to be swept off your feet.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?” Astra asked. “Sweeping me off my feet?”

“Well, I’m doing my best. You’re taller than I thought you were going to be.”

Astra smiled, accidentally, the first real smile she had allowed on herself in…a long time. She nodded over at Max.

“And what about him?” she asked. “Is Maxwell Lord going to be jealous at the fact that you’re sweeping me off my feet while you’re supposed to be on his arm?”

Alex spared him a look out of the corner of her eye before locking gazes with her again. “When he notices I’m not there, then yeah, he’ll get upset,” she said without any particular emotion. 

“So…”

“So. I don’t care. I’m not exactly here to provide entertainment for him.”

Astra’s head tilted at that one. “Oh?”

Alex seemed to consider her for a moment, then slid her hand down Astra’s arm and around her wrist. “Come on, I want to show you something,” she said.

Astra twisted her head around to look at Max. “I really shoul—“

“It’ll be quick, come on,” Alex enticed, already pulling her along, Astra realized. She was strong, but it wasn’t like Astra couldn’t have pulled out of her grip if she really wanted to.

And she did really want to.

…In maybe just a second or two. Alex said this would be fast after all.

She allowed herself to be pulled to the side of the room where there was a small door Astra had taken note of before, but hadn’t seen as anything particularly useful to her. Alex glanced over her shoulder to make sure Max was still occupied, and Astra mirrored her. If she missed this chance it could be weeks, or months until she had the opportunity to carry this out. Max was always hopping from place to place, it was so difficult to keep tabs on him, if this woman—stunning as she may be—took that chance from Astra…

But of course she followed her through the door anyway, because if this was going to be as quick as Alex said it would be, and Max would, in theory, be mingling for here for hours, then this would probably be just fine…

Except, of course, it wasn’t. The second Astra stepped through the door, Alex wheeled and kicked it shut behind her, and had a gun snatched in her hand in less than a second.

Astra was so shocked, her hands immediately came up in defense, rather than attack, and she froze.

“What are you doing here?” Alex demanded.

Astra didn’t have any good lies on hand, not having expected to need any, so she ducked and brought her forearm up and around, knocking the gun from Alex’s hand. Alex hardly to seemed to care, accepting the loss of the weapon and diving into hand-to-had combat so fluidly, Astra immediately marked her for having been trained professionally.

Very professionally.

Astra could barely keep up with her—because of the heels, and the mask, more than anything else. There was no doubt in her mind that if she just had a little more balance than these veritable blades she was balancing on, and could actually _see_ properly…

She ducked again, then pounced up, grabbing Alex’s mask and shoving it down over her eyes, giving her a second to leap backward and rip hers all the way off. Alex was of her same mind, and lifted on hand to remove hers as well, but no sooner had she tore it from her, Astra was on her again, grabbing her and putting her in a headlock…at just about the same time Alex tried to put her in a headlock. 

Each finding themselves much more inefficiently attached to one another as they’d have liked, they were once again of a mind when the made for the wall to try to slam the other off.

Mostly, they only managed to free each other, in yet again, just about the most ineffective way possible, rebounding off each other, and facing off again.

They both heard the door behind them squeaking slowly open at about the same moment—but while Astra prepared to kill whoever was entering in order to silence them—collateral damage, remember—Alex seemed to think of another way to get their intruder to leave.

In the split second it had taken for Astra to go for one of her knives, Alex shoved her up against the wall, and kissed her.

That description actually made things seem a little tame. No, it wasn’t just a kiss. Alex pushed her knee between Astra’s thighs, one hand clamping down over the side of her hip, the other one cupping the side of her head roughly, lips crushing into hers with such intensity that Astra’s adrenaline-sparked mind couldn’t actually help but answer the kiss after her initial shock, one leg sliding up the side of Alex’s, fingers tangling back in her hair.

It was all just reflex, honestly.

“Oh—shit, sorry,” their intruder mumbled quickly as he caught sight of them, then backed quickly out of the door, closing it behind himself.

The second it was closed, Alex let her go, about to start back in on their fights, but Astra quickly—she was actually proud of this—quickly found her balance, and shoved her back several steps, finally able to reach for her own gun, and pressing it to the base of Alex’s throat. Roles reversed from last time a gun was drawn, Alex sprung her hands up in a quick show of surrender that Astra only mildly trusted.

They just stood there for a moment, wrestling control over their breath, Astra keeping the gun completely level.

“What the hell was _that?”_ she demanded.

“We couldn’t have anyone thinking we were fighting back here, and the easiest way to throw him off with all the sounds would be if I got you up against the wall and—“

“—No, I mean—well, yes, that—but—“

Astra allowed herself the smallest of seconds—alright, a few seconds in a row—to look at Alex, now de-masked for the first time. 

She wished she hadn’t.

If she had been stunning with the mask on, this was simply unfair, especially now that her lips were reddened and a little swollen from the intensity of their kiss.

“—I mean, how did you know what I was here for?” Astra demanded, more angrily because she had more or less very much enjoyed that public display of a kiss, and was annoyed to still see evidence of it.

“I felt the rigging mechanism under your dress when we were dancing,” Alex said, eyes somehow darker than before. “You were here last week, trying to break in through the skylight. I don’t know anyone else who would depend solely on that.”

Astra’s eyes narrowed. _“You’re_ the one who undid it,” she realized. 

Alex nodded sharply. “All I saw was a person in black trying to get in with an automatic strapped at the shoulder,” she said. “I didn’t have a choice. I can’t let you kill Max.”

“And why is that? Are you his personal bodyguard?” 

Actually, the taunt may ring true, Astra realized. What better way to have constant protection with a bodyguard disguised as arm candy. Then again…

“I’m just trying to get close to him,” Alex said. “I’m on—I’m gonna reach for my badge, okay?”

Astra jerked her head, agreeing, but still reminding her of her position with a shift of her finger on the trigger, eliciting a small, metallic _click._

Alex nodded, acknowledging the reminder, and reached for the hem of her dress, sliding it up to reveal…quite the menagerie strapped across her thigh. A knife, another gun—how had those not shown through the tightness of that her dress?—and there, the badge, Astra supposed. 

Alex unhooked it, and pulled it up, bringing the hem of the dress down as she stood up. Which was probably a very good thing, because Astra might have gotten distracted by that thigh holster, and thigh it was around, if it hadn’t been covered quickly.

“Special Agent Alex Danvers,” Alex said, holding the badge up for Astra to see. “I can’t let you kill Max. Not because I’m his _bodyguard—“_ she scowled, seemingly just at the thought of it. “The organization I work for received intelligence that Max has been abducting and experimenting on coma patients from hospitals around the city. I’m here to get close enough to be able to get down to the lower levels and check out the layout for myself so that I can get the go-ahead for the rest of my agents to come in and make an arrest. Hopefully, if he’s still got victims down there, we’ll be able to get to them too.”

Astra tried to think of something to say, not having expected all _that_ to have been Alex’s explanation for playing arm candy.

“So then…”

“I’d be happy to have your assistance in taking him down, though,” Alex offered. 

Astra looked into those deep, dark eyes, looking for guile, looking for a sly glint, a narrowness of distrust.

There was a slight narrowing of distrust. Fair enough, that. It wasn’t as if Astra was exactly overflowing with any particularly trusting feelings for her right now, either. 

But there did seem to be honesty to what Alex had told her, so she dared to lower the gun slightly, with a warning tilt of her head. 

Alex nodded, a wordless thank you. “I was able to follow him to the lower levels yesterday,” she said. “He wouldn’t let me come any further, but I was able to see the access code. All I need is to be able to get past that door, get some evidence my team will be able to go on, and get out. I’d be grateful for a second pair of eyes.”

A large part of Astra was screaming at her to not be an idiot, to not trust this for even a second, but the smaller part of her that was curious and intrigued, and maybe still a little mesmerized, decided that following along sounded like a fantastic idea.

Still… “I’m keeping this gun at your head,” she warned, lifting it again. “The entire time, unless I see fit to do otherwise.”

Alex took that in for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds like a really wise decision on my part, to let you do that.”

Astra dropped her arm in annoyance. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Alex looked pointedly down at her hand. “You gonna drop the gun first?” she prompted.

Astra huffed, nostrils flaring, weighing this. 

Such a bad idea, such a bad idea, _such a bad idea…_

But curiosity had always been a problem with her, so she placed the gun down, and followed as Alex led the way toward a connecting door, and a series of steps down below. Such a bad idea, but such a nice view from behind, even as nice as the view from the front…

“Are you checking out my ass back there?” Alex asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“…No…”

“That’s too bad. I checked out yours, liked what I saw.”

“I…well…” Astra stammered. “…Yoursisnicetoo.”

Hadn’t this all started very professionally? Where was all this stammering coming from?

It didn’t matter, because all of a sudden, they were faced with the door to the lower level. Watching carefully, Astra waited as Alex punched in the passcode, prompting the door to slide open with a _hiss._

They glanced at each other in a brief moment of solidarity, then crept inside.

Well—started to. Astra was able to catch a quick glimpse of something inside—a woman, likely braindead, lay on an operating table at the far end of the room. Astra was just able to recognize a spill of long blonde hair, when all of a sudden—

She and Alex both pressed their hands to their ears at the same time as an alarm blared.

“He must’ve changed the passcode,” Alex mumbled in horror. Still, she reached for the tiny camera tucked away from…somewhere, Astra didn’t really see…snapping a quick picture, before wheeling on her heel, grabbing Astra’s wrist and pulling her along to the stairs leading up as quickly as she could.

They practically flew up them, Astra’s heart picking up pace as she heard the heavy fall of about ten men’s feet charging after them—Max’s _actual_ bodyguards. 

The two of them burst out of the first unlocked door from the stairwell they could find, and Astra saw Alex’s face drain as she realized they had somehow managed to find themselves at the top floor.

That hardly seemed plausible, but there was no time for plausible.

“Do you trust me?” Astra asked her.

“Are you kidding?” Alex asked, eyebrows raised critically.

Astra sighed, shaking her head. “Too bad,” she huffed, grabbing Alex’s hand and charging for the window, tossing the rigging through at the neighboring building, very _very_ much hoping that it had caught, and leapt with Alex from the sill.

*

The multiple implausibilities in that dream were, frankly, an utter relief, Astra thought as she got up and ran her finger along the sill of her own window—well, _Alex’s_ window. 

After the heaviness of everything her mind had put her through in the dreams before, this was a welcome respite.

That kiss had been something, though. 

It really…

Astra dropped her head with a thump against the window pain.

That kiss had really been something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM GOING TO FINISH ALL SEVEN OF THESE PROMPTS BY THE END OF THE WEEK IF IT KILLS ME, my brain screamed at me last night…before promptly falling asleep until 5:30 this morning. Needless to say, this one is so clumsily written and unedited—I’m hoping to come back to it, but I still need to get to the seventh one—I’m now at least determined to get this all finished by the eighth day of the week…which I realize isn’t a thing, but I’m pretending…so hopefully the final one will be up by the end of today. Fingers crossed. Eight-day week, I WILL defeat you!


	7. Day 7: Mythology AU

Dusk now, eight hours since Alex had left for the DEO, and Astra had managed to successfully solve a Rubik’s cube. 

That was it.

The infernal solitaire game lay abandoned—it couldn’t possibly be that difficult to do if it was invented by humans, and yet, it had gotten the best of her for an embarrassing number of rounds in a row. Astra determined not to lay hands on cards again unless it was absolutely necessary. 

She glanced at the clock on the microwave, wanting it to speed up. Maybe with the real Alex here, instead of all these projections in her mind, Astra might be able to settle a little better. A night of dreaming, followed by a day of dreaming of dreaming…maybe some reality could get rid of all this…nonsense.

She leaned her shoulder against the window sill, looking down on the street below, all its people. She put her hand to the cool pane, absently touching her fingers to the glass as a small smattering of raindrops tapped against it, all these tiny beads of water returning to their source, catching light from the city lights around it, and what bits of sunset were still seeping through the light overhang of clouds above. 

All that refracted light…Astra squeezed her eyes shut. 

One more.

*

This last one at least had the dignity to flow in the way a dream should. It was like watching different thick colored paints begin thrown toward each other from all different directions. Streaks of color intermixing, forming double helixes of color in the air, only to have them ultimately splatter against a wall, or fall into nothing.

It was always herself and Alex, these streams of heavy paint being thrown toward one another, opposing titans, immeasurable forces, wrapped around each other, sometimes strangling, sometimes rescuing, with all the frenetic storm-like energy that made up the plethora—the pantheon—the plethora of pantheons of human mythologies.

First, it was Thunder and Lightning, the clumsy, bumbling mated pair—and Astra felt some annoyance with her own mind for characterizing herself as Thunder. Because Thunder, in all her haplessness, simply wished to give a set of gifts to her mate, but in her exuberance, dropped the gifts, and as they rolled away through the clouds, their rumbling sounded as thunder to the humans below.

And Lightning, Alex, her mate, sharp and slight and fast, but foolish and unaware that those gifts were for her, only knowing that Thunder had dropped something important to her, went racing after them, so fast that sparks flew from her heels, stretching and crackling into streaks of lightning behind her.

The two of them a storm, haphazard, unable to exist without one another—but how insulting, really, that the myth itself was told intentionally as a comedy, these two clumsy, mated beings, creating chaos not because of sultry passion, but because of a combined idiocy borne of wanting too much to please the other…

But suddenly, no longer a clumsy sky being, Astra was a flood of lava tumbling toward the sea, only to have the sea clash with her, their intermingling creating typhoons, tsunamis—storms of anger, of misunderstanding. Each island Astra tried to form from her own lava was torn apart by the crashing waves Alex’s rage brought along—perhaps for the best, because what life could be borne of barren rock, what life could be given without water—but Astra’s desperation to keep life going, fruitless as it was, urged her to try each day to form more rocks, more islands.

And what right did Alex have to be that ocean, to take apart Astra’s islands, her scramble for life, thin and tightly-controlled as it would have to be—what right did Alex to have to tear those islands apart and throw life’s survival to chance, throw it into the water, hope it swims, what if it doesn’t…

The two of them tangled, water and lava swirling, spinning out to become a flow of red…red wine spilling with such force and such quantity as to create a river of itself. And Alex—Alex, of course, Alex—bathing, rolling, frolicking in that wine, and while Astra dove in with the intention of pulling her safe to the bank, she only got dragged in with her, and whether Alex recognized her or not, at least there was that blissful haze of lust to pull them into each other, the debauchery of those around them, those who had also come to drink from this river of sin, all fell away so that it was only the two of them, soaked in red, Alex running her tongue up the left carotid artery of Astra’s throat, sending her spinning into sickening lust.

And how sweet it all tasted…they were deep beneath the earth now, in cool, damp caverns glittering with golden dust above them—Alex, human, come to save her sister, an offering Astra would agree to only if she would take her sister’s place—drink water from the roots of the willow tree, cause her to forget her human life, so that she would belong to Astra, only Astra…

And then the trick, the horrible, deadly trick, when Alex might have stayed hers, offered her a gift of the purest human wine, contained in an iron chalice—and how badly the iron burned her, how Alex had taken pity on her rather than flee, taken her to a stream to heal, but maybe it had been deeper than it looked because now Astra was falling through…Astra had fallen right through to a world beyond, a cliff where she looked out over the entirety of the Earth’s population.

And they were watching her, they were all watching her, all saying _Pandora, don’t, Pandora, leave well enough alone, don’t open it, Pandora, don’t—_

But there it was, the Omegahedron, the device that would power Myriad—was Myriad still active? Did it matter?—Astra took the device in her hands, wrenching the top and bottom apart, thrown backward as dark, terrifying shadows—shadows with force, with near-physical presence—swirled out from the opened Omegahedron, their escape knocking her back over the edge of the cliff.

She grabbed onto a root at the last moment, keeping herself from falling completely, heart plummeting into her stomach, splashing dread up into her chest, into her throat, as she watched those dark shadows streak toward the towns of people below, skittering like so many cockroaches into their homes, eating away at them, and the horror of it all nearly made Astra let go of the root, let herself fall—

But Astra would never give up that easily, she _wouldn’t_. She clawed into the dirt, into the rocky side of the cliff, fingernails becoming bloody and cracked as dirt and debris were shoved up and under—

But still she was falling, no matter how hard she dug in, still falling, and the shadows from the Omegahedron, the shadows from that box—

_(Pandora! the people below cried, Pandora what have you done, opening the box, setting free all the horrors of the world to tear us apart)_

But all of a sudden, a hand, gripping hers, pulling her up, grunting, crying with exertion as the earth gave way and she was only just barely pulled to safety in time. But the shadows continued to flood from the Omegahedron, skittering and scattering, pulling apart the cliff—Astra tried to see through their swarming, tried to see who it was that had pulled her up, and saw her, Alex, still pulling, face desperate.

“Astra!” she cried. Not Pandora. “Astra! There’s still—“

Her words kept getting cut off by the swarm of shadows, these demon shades that slithered over Astra’s skin, under it…how could Astra focus on Alex’s words?

But Alex still pulled at her, still pulled her _toward_ the Omegahedron, not away from it, and Astra wanted to follow her, but wanted to stay away from _it,_ escape the source of all that evil…

“Astra, there’s still—“ Alex’s voice kept being carried away by the shadows. Astra held tight to her hand, finally allowing herself to be pulled along, just so she could hear, just so she could understand, and finally—

“Astra, at the bottom of the box!” Alex cried, tugging her ever closer. “At the bottom—there’s still Hope—“

*

Astra jolted at the sound of the lock of the front door being tampered with, then calmed down when she heard the very particular cadence of motions and sounds she had come to recognize as Alex’s. Just unlocking the door. Coming in.

Astra felt her own heartbeat pick up, in much the stupid way a dog’s tail started thumping on the floor when it heard its owner returning home. She straightened up to standing to dispel at least _that_ ridiculous image as Alex finally pushed the door open, balancing a large…something…covered in tarp in her arms.

“Hey!” Alex exclaimed in much too colloquial a greeting as her eyes fell on Astra at the window. Didn’t she know the spinning wheel of madness she had just ridden with Astra in her mind? How could anyone be so…calm…after that?

But calm with a certain light to her eyes that Astra thought might come under the definition of the word “glad” at seeing her. “Glad” to find her here.

“Your brain still intact an un-rotted?” Alex questioned, kicking the door closed behind her with her heel. Astra simply watched in surprised silence as Alex set this…thing, whatever it was…on the island counter, and ran her fingers through her hair, ruffling it as if that would somehow dry it—it and the rest of her body and face, all covered with a thin glisten of water from the rain outside.

“Really starting to come down out there,” Alex told her, taking off her jacket and draping it over the coat hanger by the door. “With any luck, we might actually get a full-blown storm.” She shook out her hair again and began unloading her things. “You know I haven’t seen a full-blown storm ever hit this city?” she yammered on blithely, mostly to herself it seemed. “It usually dissipates before it hits the…Astra, are you okay?”

Astra flinched. “I’m…” she said.

Alex lifted her eyebrows curiously, seeming to expect a bit more than that.

“What, did I take you by surprise or something?” she asked.”What’s all that special Kryptonian super hearing for if you can’t hear me coming—?”

“I’m sorry,” Astra’s apology seemed to catch Alex off guard. 

“Sorry for what?” Alex asked after a second. 

“—Nothing—just…I knew it was you, I was just…” she imitated the gesture Alex made sometimes, with the circular hand motion at her temple. “…I was just in my own head.”

Alex cocked her head, then smiled. “I get that,” she said. “Anything interesting in there?”

Astra huffed out a laugh. “‘Interesting’ is certainly one word for it,” she allowed.

“Still dream-analyzing?” Alex asked, leaning her elbows on the island counter in a way that seemed to invite Astra over to join her. 

“Only very accidentally, I assure you,” Astra said, joining her.

“Did you at least figure out the Rubik’s cube?” Alex asked.

Astra sniffed haughtily. “You mean the child’s toy,” she said. “Please don’t tell me you actually find that challenging…”

“Not anymore,” Alex said with a shrug. “I kind of use it as a stress reliever sometimes though.” She looked oddly vulnerable at the confession, which Astra wasn’t sure she understood the reason for. 

Whatever the reason, it made her soften awkwardly. “I’m sorry…” she began.

“You’re full of apologies tonight,” Alex interrupted her with a laugh. She cocked her head again, and looked at her with open, but ever so slightly critical, eyes. “Everything okay? Or is this more…dream…stuff?”

Astra shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Alex thinned her lips, looking at her thoughtfully, clearly not believing her, but allowing the sidestep anyway. “Well, do you want to come see what I got you to occupy your time a little better till J’onn gets you all taken care of?” she asked.

Astra did want to come see, though she stiffened a little, a reflex she had had for a long time now. Gifts always made her feel guilty somehow.

Still, she was curious as always, and came forward to stand beside Alex at the counter.

“Ready?” Alex asked.

Astra gave her an annoyed look, making her grin, and she slid the tarp carefully off the long rectangle balanced on the counter’s edge. 

Astra was silent at its reveal. She hardly moved as her gaze fell on it.

A long, rectangular pot—a bed to seven different species of immature plants. 

“It’s a…like a little miniature garden,” Alex was saying, her voice taking on a mumbling quality.

Astra simply continued to look at it, the gentle spiral of leaves curling, some of them flourishing, some of them in _dire_ need of sunlight, or water…this would be a difficult collection of plants to keep alive in one bed, it was very clear that Alex had picked out these plants based on looks rather than any real knowledge about plant compatibility, or…basic necessities. Her expertise in biology was rather contained only to _sentient_ life forms, apparently.

“…got it from this guy…actually used to be Lena Luthor’s favorite florist…he thought some of my choices probably shouldn’t live together in the same bed, but I figure, y’know, I’ve got a _Kryptonian_ , she’ll know what to do…”

“Alex.”

“…I just thought maybe, y’know, with all that Myriad stuff, and preserving life, and ecosystem…whatever…” Alex plowed ahead, “maybe instead of trying to just _entertain_ you, maybe let you do something kind of like what you were trying to do before, sort of—only minus the mind control, just you, y’know, working the land…or the four-foot long flower bed…on my fire escape…”

“Alex.”

“…Seemed like maybe a thing you might like…I don’t have any access to real gardens or anything from my apartment, but I thought maybe this little one…like you could still foster life and things…in kind of a miniature way…just, maybe passing time in a way that’s more productive and maybe more…you, and…”

“Alex.”

This time, Astra took Alex’s face in her hand, forcing her to look at her. Alex trailed off at their sudden closeness, swallowing nervously, dark eyes widening in surprise. Astra’s gaze flickered from those eyes down to her lips, then up again, uncomfortable heat at her cheeks and the tips of her ears, uncomfortable heat and wistfulness and sadness and happiness at Alex’s gift turning her insides to…mush, really.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Her thumb brushed over the sharp edge of Alex’s cheekbone. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked breathily, looking relieved, though still startled by the physicality of Astra’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Astra confirmed, or tried to—it felt like her voice was trapped somewhere, and that one simple word was barely a breath. Had this been one of her dreams, Astra might have leaned in and kissed her, might have pressed in, let her know how much this meant…

Not a dream. This wasn’t a dream, and yet, Astra was certainly treating it as such, much to her own dismay, as she did just that, leaning in, and pressing her lips softly to Alex’s. 

Alex inhaled sharply in surprise, but while she stiffened, she didn’t pull away. Her lips were soft under Astra’s, warm, real, and Astra dared to linger for a moment, dared to exist in this moment. She waited for the panic to strike her, waited for uncertainties and anxieties to flood her senses, and the moment she pulled away, she was sure she would feel all of these things full force.

But for right now, just this soft press of lips—so very gentle, so different than any motion, or any feeling Astra had experienced in…forever, maybe. She just wanted to say thank you, just…hold on maybe just a small second longer before letting this moment evaporate along with the rest of her dreams.

She pulled away slowly, bending her neck down so that, when she opened her eyes, she didn’t have to face Alex head on. Just the floor beneath them. Good to have something solid like that to look at so she could remind herself to stay tethered to reality, and not do anything like that again.

Her gaze shot up to meet Alex’s anyway however when she felt Alex take hold of her hand. Her eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Alex’s, searching for what this reaction was—positive? Negative? Apathetic?

She hoped above all hope that it wasn’t apathetic.

 _Thoughtful_ for now, it looked like—but thoughtful in that way that had a kind of frenzied, uncertain energy behind it. Then it seemed to catch up to Alex, and red spread across her cheeks, as did an entirely self-conscious smile. And then she gave a stupid, nervous-sounding laugh, and Astra felt like her heart was either melting, or getting ready to harden defensively again.

“Um. That was…” Alex trailed off. Astra waited, waited for these words, whatever they were going to be, whether ones fashioned to bring her dreams to life, or destroy them all in one blow…Astra was ready for either outcome—hateful of one, hopeful for the other—but either way, prepared…

No she wasn’t. When it came to Alex, she was _never_ prepared, and she was momentarily afraid she had just been dropped into another dream when Alex pressed in and kissed her back.

But this wasn’t what a dream felt like. Because Alex pressed in closer after a moment, deepening the kiss, molding into her, pressing her back against the edge of the counter, and Astra could feel every spark of adrenaline in her, every jump of her pulse, every flinch, every push, every pull…could feel soft breath against her cheek, a nervous shake or twitch here and there—so very much more alive than what her dreams had been like. Unpredictable. New. Not Astra’s imagined version of things, but something purely Alex, the taste of her, the feel of her…just…purely Alex.

Astra sighed shakily into the kiss, fingers curling back in Alex’s hair, and it felt like maybe that hollowness in her was beginning to fill up a little bit.

*

She woke the following morning in Alex’s bed, head tucked beneath Alex’s chin, legs tangled with hers. For a moment, she panicked, certain she must have made some sort of mistake…but Alex’s fingers were stroking absently through her hair. When Astra angled her head to look up at her, she seemed to still be in a sort of half-sleep place, maybe having woken up just long enough to remember what Astra was doing here in her bed, and lulled herself back to sleep with absent affection.

That’s what Astra hoped, anyway, as she herself began to do just that, tracing patterns over the surface of Alex’s skin, scratching gently over the side of her ribs, and Alex twitched a little, seeming to come a little more awake, and Astra made a mental note to herself that that was both a good place to dig in with her fingers sometimes, and maybe bite at a little bit at other times.

She sighed, the idea of it making her nuzzle her head into Alex’s neck without any real conscious decision to do so. She just…what were the words…there probably weren’t any, so Astra just let instinct take over and stretched against her, nuzzling and kissing her neck until Alex finally began to stir more wakefully with a grunt at having been woken up, and a sigh as she realized what Astra was doing.

Everything, Astra thought. Everything was what she was going to be doing to Alex, doing _for_ Alex, doing _with_ Alex, as long as she possibly could. Being with her last night…starting out tender, then too nervously excited, then slowing again, becoming riled simply by the slowness of it…playfulness interjected, followed by a little roughness, before laughing apologies were made, coming back down to sweet…than slow again, darker, needier, heavier…

Astra shuddered, and started adding little nips here and there to Alex’s neck to wake her up faster. Because Alex had asked her to share all of her dreams with her, and frankly, that might require a bit of practical research in order to tell the story in exactly the way it should be told—with teeth and tongues and hands and gasps—maybe tears sometimes, though maybe she might skip those parts, at least for now. Maybe just the physical part of things first, then breakfast, then tending to the miniature garden still waiting in the kitchen. _Then_ feelings. Then…anything. Everything.

So many things to do now that she had Alex to wake up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnnnd I must sleep. So much sleep. What a week this has been.
> 
> Thank you all for reading/giving feedback/etc - now I’ve actually got some time on my hands I gotta go check out everybody else’s work! Happy General Danvers Week, everybody! (And if we end up doing another one at some point, remind me to actually prepare BEFORE the week happens) Sleep well, everybody, and by everybody, I mostly mean me. Thanks again!


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